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jester-lover · 6 months

Note

I’m sorry if this is a bother or if your requests aren’t open, feel free to ignore this!

I totally loved the Cinderella one shot you did with the first years, could you do one with the same concept but with the dorm heads? (Or if not all of them, Malleus, Azul and Leona) thank you! 💙

Magic Moment

W/ the Dorm Leaders! + PLATONIC! Trein (I had to for this ask, the same as the last one) FIRST YEARS VERS.

this was literally one of my favorite works I've ever done, thank you for this.

CW/ Fem! Reader, fluff, shyness, nervousness, MR. TREIN BEING A BETTER ADOPTIVE FATHER THAN CROWLEY, I tried to leave the dress details vague, but the general ballgown shape is mentioned, late night walks>>>

As you took a couple of deep breaths and frantically straightened the shining expense of your lush, glimmering ball gown, the echo of music in the ballroom hummed gently. The silken gloves felt lovely against the smooth skin of your freshly manicured fingers. For once in your turbulent school life, you allowed yourself to feel beautiful.

You could hear the happy gnawing sounds made by Grim, who was enjoying a comically large turkey leg. Such a sight would have usually made you laugh if you weren't solely focused on your pounding heartbeat and nauseating nervousness. The sounds of the ballroom music were still picking up as the events of the night were only about to begin.

You felt a warm, fatherly presence by your side, and you turned to see Professor Trein in formal navy-colored robes. His lips curled into a comforting smile as a look of sweet nostalgia filled his eyes.

“I believe the event is about to start; you have absolutely nothing to fear…”

His words trailed off as the other professors called him to join them in the waiting room. The words caught in your throat, but you managed to give him a quick response.

“Thank you, professor!”

Holding your head up a little higher, you gripped onto the delicate fabric of your dress, and a smile enchanted your features as you walked forward towards the grand hall. As you opened up the door and stepped onto the wide golden staircase, you realized that all eyes were on you.

Your dress flowed downward gracefully, as if you were a bird, walking slowly down the steps so as to not ruin your pair of strangely comfortable glass heels.

The beautiful hall was ornately decorated, the sweet-smelling dessert tables were framed with rose petals, and fresh lilies wrapped themselves around the pillars holding up the stained glass ceiling. The elegantly dressed young men in the room seemed to pause in unison as you took small, unsure steps down to the base of the staircase.

With that many eyes on you, peering into your very soul and seeping into any small bit of exposed flesh, the nervousness in your bones returned tenfold.

However, when you saw him standing there, everything was truly magical once again.

Riddle

A sound close to a sigh leaves Riddle’s lips as he takes in the sight of you.

Rushing into the crowd of clamoring boys, he quickly gets to your side and composes himself.

“How indignant, crowding around a young lady as if she doesn’t need personal space! I will have all of your heads for such an offense!”

And he will most likely collar a couple people, but after the ball, after he dances with you, of course!

Despite being taught (rather vigorously) to dance formally, he’s very shy about being so close to you, and in such a public environment too!

Riddle tries his best to give you a nice moment; he knows how stressed out you are on a daily basis, and the experience is beautiful for the both of you.

He wears a burgundy suit with frilly sleeves and an almost delicate collar, complemented by a black tie.

The two of you dance for a brief half hour before leaving for the quietness of the front entrance steps.

The low lighting and gentle nighttime breeze calm Riddle down enough to start a light conversation.

….which proceeds to last the two of you until midnight.

Riddle will walk you home afterwards, like a true gentleman should.

Perhaps a little more red-faced than he intended to be.

“Tonight was so wonderful…maybe we could do something like this again..?”

Leona

A smile forms on Leona’s face the moment he sees you, parting confidently through the crowds of rambunctious teenage boys, he takes your hand gently in his own before pressing a kiss against your gloved wrist.

“Herbivore… I think you owe me a dance for all those times you ruined my sleep…”

Leona’s movements as he pulls you into a dance are sharp and precise, he wants to impress you with his abilities and show you how much better he is than any other suitor who may dare to pursue you.

His head rests on top of yours, taking in the delicate scent of your perfume as he sways you side to side.

As the music continues, he sees you grow a bit tired and steps aside with you, away from the crowd and closer to the windows.

The two of you banter onwards about your personal lives, mostly him telling lighthearted stories about his nephew.

The time slips away so soon, and your gentle mixed laughter soon fills an empty hall, prompting a quick exit.

He walks you home with your arms linked and his blazer over your shoulders, protecting you from the cold nighttime air.

As soon as you reach the steps of Ramshackle, he seems almost hesitant to let you go, the year of joy and tenderness he got with you comes flooding back to him.

“I know I don't usually get all sappy…but I can really see myself building a life with you…”

He kisses you on your forehead and only lets go of your hand as you walk through your front door.

Azul

A sharp gasp escapes from Azul as he speeds towards you, almost tripping against the air as he pushes against the other young men in the room, whispering small apologies to anyone he practically runs over.

Azul blushes when he sees you, but musters up enough courage to take your hand in his.

“In return for your help at the Lounge, I wish to offer you a dance!”

(Let him have this, please; he can’t talk to women.)

His moves while slow dancing are a bit stiff, but the calm atmosphere loosens him up enough to look decent and presentable.

This boy has horrible endurance, and the two of you stop dancing pretty quickly.

Azul steadily moves into the crowd of young men with you on his arm, a pep in his step like never before.

He’s an opportunistic businessman, so this ball of sorts constitutes the perfect networking opportunity for him.

The two of you small talk with a lot of people, spurring rumors about your closeness.

Fairly soon after the event, he decides to walk you back to Ramshackle, where he kisses your hand and bids you goodnight.

“If you have any free time, perhaps we can do something like this again..?”

Kalim

Kalim smiles brightly and rushes forward to you, the crowd parting ways for him, a beaming ray of sunlight basically leaping towards you.

His hands brush against yours as he presses a charming kiss to your gloved fingers, leading you toward the center of the practically vacant dancefloor as the music slows.

“I’ve had dreams about a moment like this!”

Kalim’s style of dancing is more fast-paced and lighthearted, spinning you around and dipping you haphazardly.

Making you laugh is his first priority, and he achieves it pretty quickly.

After dancing, he invites you to eat something alongside him—something quick and sweet, like cake or ice cream.

The two of you talk about your homelands, which mostly consists of him telling you about all the sights you’ll see when he takes you to his.

Kalim won’t realize it's late until you let him know.

Then he’ll walk you home, joking about how carried away the two of you got.

Right before you enter Ramshackle, he’ll press a kiss on your cheek and practically beam if you reciprocate it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe we could get lunch together!”

Vil

The sheer confidence Vil exhibits as he walks towards you is the polar opposite of the general uneasiness he feels inside.

I mean, usually he wouldn't care about the rest of those potatoes, but as he walked down rows of well-dressed boys, it seemed like everyone had ramped up their looks for the night.

Suddenly, he wasn't the brightest star in the sky.

However, when he got to your side and saw the look of awe in your eyes, everything fell into place for him again.

“You look enchanting, I’m glad you’ve been taking my fashion advice seriously.”

Vil dances almost like a bird, moving as if the music is chasing after him.

He’s tough to keep up with on the dance floor; he’s just so speedy, but he holds on to you quite tightly.

Being so close to Vil, he presses his head close to your neck and holds your waist sweetly. His slender hands are firm, guiding you.

You can probably see Rook in your peripheral vision, snapping photos (and maybe tearing up in sheer joy).

Because of his celebrity status, the two of you can’t exactly leave without a massive paparazzi presence.

So you decide to sneak out of a back door, something he considers improper but necessary.

The walk home is quiet but comfortable, and Vil’s hand is intertwined with yours.

When you reach the broken gate to Ramshackle House, he presses a kiss on your temple, leaving a pinkish stain.

“Remember to take off that makeup before bed, Potato. I’ll see you for breakfast this morning.”

Idia

Idia would rather be anywhere but here, but maybe that grand entrance cutscene wasn’t all that bad…

Unlike the other boys, Idia would not go after you first.

Instead, he would go find a place where no one would pester him.

Maybe after dancing quite formally and inflexibly with a boring cast of young men, you get quite socially tired and wander off, looking for a place to be alone for a bit.

That is how you find Idia, sitting on the floor in the empty kitchen section of the venue.

“H-hey! You of all people—you weren’t supposed to find me..”

Tiredly sitting down next to him, your big poofy dress impairing you from comfortably slouching.

You looked like a sad bear, just tired and done.

His face is burning so hard, it's crazy that the fire alarms have not gone off yet.

Idia raises a shaking hand to pat your back gently, placing his tablet on your lap.

“Wanna see the 3D model for my new desk…? I-I don’t know… you seem kinda bored.”

Cue the massive tangent he goes on about how horrible the dance is and how tiresome social interaction is with IRL people.

After some point, you start laughing at how ridiculously exasperated he sounds.

You two sneak out of the back door of the venue soon before the event is over.

Idia walks you home reluctantly, before realizing how cliche such a moment is and lowkey squealing a little into his hands.

He stays outside the doors of Ramshackle but waves you goodbye quickly.

You take the chance and kiss his cheek, prompting him to walk away from you, saying bye again in a slightly lower tone before turning his heel and walking away.

Malleus

It's safe to assume he’s waited for this moment since he’s met you.

Malleus steps towards you, any other person within his eyesight stepping out of it in fear or confusion.

He takes your hands in his and gives you a sweet smile, his towering form almost obscuring you from the peering eyes of the room.

“Might I be selfish this once and have your first dance?”

As the two of you dance, his guiding hand completely envelops yours, his eyes catching any missed steps and correcting you with a nudge in the right direction.

Circling around the marbled flooring, he holds you by your back and dips you by your waist.

It’s a scene straight out of a period piece.

The dimmed lights and moving crowd alert Malleus that the other festivities are starting, but he doesn’t want to waste a second out of your sight.

“Come along, Child of Man, we barely get a moment to ourselves these days…”

Your arm links around his as the two of you leave from the front entrance, evading the eyes of his retainers and sneaking off down the street.

Malleus listens to you ramble on about whatever fuels your curiosity.

Being in a new world must be difficult, and he finds your questions amusing.

When you reach the front door of Ramshackle, his hands find yours, and he pauses for a brief moment, like he’s debating something in his head.

Leaning downward, Malleus’s hair falls against his shoulders as you look up at him. Your lips connect for a brief moment before you walk back into your dorm.

He stands there for a moment, watching you walk in with a sweet smile on his face as he hears the voice of a familiar green-haired retainer yelling out for him.

The cool night air that filters through the cracked windows of Ramshackle House serves to calm you down after a long night of dancing and socializing. You lay on the dusty couch, still clad in your oversized ball gown, sparkling in the dim candlelight.

Grim was asleep beside you, his warm, fluffy fur pressed against your arm, and his gentle purring made your painted eyelids flutter with tiredness.

You thought back to the unforgettable night; spending time with him was a memory to cherish forever.

As you shook your arm to try and remove Grim, you realized he wouldn't budge, succumbing to your fate. You smiled and closed your eyes.

A wonderful ending to a wonderful night.

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honestsycrets · 5 months

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hi sy! first things first, you’re a fantastic writer. i am in LOVE with your western series! second, may i request an idea? it’s the 1920s, and miguel is one of the top mobsters in nueva york, while the reader is his mob wife. after an attempted hit from one of miguel’s rivals that nearly kills her and gabriella, the reader decides it’s time to her and little girl to skip town, but miguel will be damned if his family tries to leave him. cueeeee angst, drama, the whole shabang!

canary I: a threat | [miguel o'hara x reader x gabriel o'hara]

❛ pairing | miguel o'hara x reader, gabriel o'hara x reader

❛ type | double shot; 5k

❛ tags | non-monogamy, some angst, 1920s inspired piece, irish clan inspired piece, bootlegging and mention of hits, explicit, a depiction of killings, some jealousy, some trad-roles elements, f!reader, 1920s slang and Spanish not translated, time period birth control (cervical cap).

❛ sy’s notes | i have spent weeks staring at this piece. it's a bit longer than my usual works and for that reason i decided to split it up into two chapters. this piece takes on a little bit more of a generalized irish mob approach rather than italian. this chapter is more domestic than the subsequent one will be.

Miguel O’Hara hated it when his kills ran. No matter how many alleyways they ducked into, shoddily constructed fences they tumbled over, or crappy cars they tried to hitch a ride in, he always found them.

His fingers were blisteringly tight around his kill’s throat, sure to leave certain bruising if the man made it out alive. He wouldn’t. Not based on the blood that seeped over Miguel’s tanned hand. He gurgled underneath Miguel’s hand, the kill messier than he imagined. Any number of his hitmen could have carried out this contract but instead, his crisp white top was slathered in the contract kill of the week. He recalled the sudden memory of his hand on your slight waist, the kiss on the top of your head with the promise of his night. He snarled the memory away.

Should’ve just shot him, Miguel thought. Mierda.

With the fading of the man’s life, his choked grunts drifted into silence. Miguel allowed the man to slump over. Silence fractured, his world bursting with sound. The salt-laden wind whistled past his hair as ships sailed into the pier, carrying cargo, and his latest shipments. Bootlegged booze had its own benefits-- poor training and numbers among agents, for example. A crackle of an engine sped down the road was followed by the bright beams of an electric headlamp.

“¡Oye, Miguel!”

Of course. Under the bright moon that shone arrogantly in the dark sky, the figure came into focus. His polished suit was just a tad too big for his toned, but hardly muscular frame. Even in the darkness, he had the kind of smile that made people feel like they were the special ones. It matched the gentleness in his eyes behind that swoop of chestnut brown hair. If the feds published men of their color on army recruitment posters, he’d certainly make the cut. Handsome, but not too handsome. Strong, but not too strong.

“Gabe,” he breathed. “The lights.”

“Lights? The lights!” Gabriel looked back at his shiny black car. He bounced back toward the car, bellowing. “This a Spot boy? You did a number on him.”

“You sap. Could you be any louder?” Miguel threw aside. “Why are you here?”

“Thought you could use me tonight, big shot,” Gabriel said in that sugar-dipped tongue of his. It works less on Miguel than it had on you. It was oddly discomforting. As the days wore on, he loathed his brother’s silver tongue.

“I could use someone watching my girls.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I was. They're sleeping." Gabriel booted the man, more than minced meat when Miguel was done with him. “You had some beef with him, huh?”

“No.” Miguel mumbled, looking at the man’s body rather than his own, something sharp hovering there. There was nothing he wanted less than to stand in the biting cold listening to his baby brother prattle on a moment longer. He wiped his blade on his once-was-crisp slacks and slid it back into its sheathe. “Let’s hit it.”

“Jake,” Gabriel said, an annoying rendition of an okay. Gabriel was full of shitty terms from his stint in the big house. Almost as many as he picked up at Miguel’s speakeasy.

“Say. Miguel?”

Gabriel’s voice was soft, almost strained. Miguel caught his eyes, knowing subconsciously what his brother would say. He sucked in a breath to calm himself from a reaction to thin, sharp words. They balanced on the point of a knife as Gabriel spoke them into existence.

“They're our girls.”

This setup wasn't going to last. One day, you'd probably settle with Gabe. Miguel jerked up to the sensation of your fingers ghosting his chest, twiddling around his inky black chest hair, gliding across scars. He senses the source of his disquiet, your small frame draped over his side, watching him with a foreign curiosity.

“Muñeca?” he murmured sleepfully, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. “What's it? Did Gabriel sleep in?”

He finds it hard to believe that his chirpy brother would do such a thing. Mornings were notoriously his favourite part of the day. Unlike Miguel, who shunned the light that streamed in from your thin curtains.

“Coppers took him in for questioning,” you murmured, leaning in to lay a small peckish kiss on his lips. That was quick. His eyes swept down to your lips, lingering there as you spoke. “Gabi said you’d come with me to iglesia.”

“Chingado. He passed the buck onto me.” Miguel groaned, dropping his head back onto the pillow, weighed down by such a stupid request. You thumbed the golden necklace he’d forgotten to take off, gliding one of your legs up his hirsute thighs. He finds himself hiking your leg higher up his thigh. “That’s what you woke me up for?”

“‘Course not,” you muttered. “I missed you last night. Where’d you go off to?”

“To finish intake.”

You didn’t believe that.

“Promise it didn’t have nothing to do with what Gabi got carted off for?” He holds you in a working gaze, something that tells you he isn’t about to answer something like that. You are his woman. Yet, some secrets aren’t ones that he’s willing to disclose. It could put you in a compromised position. Most men, namely the Italian boys, had enough sense not to drag a man’s family into problems between the mob and the clan but in this world, not everyone had sense.

“Miguelito, you’re scaring me.” Your breath quickened, palpable with your chest against his. His large hand encompassed the middle of your back, guiding small, consolatory circles.

“Some things you’re better off not knowing,” Miguel worked at an explanation. Some things like the amount of hits he was getting for Spot boys. The booze going missing from the speakeasy. Some of his girls licked off the street. Just-- some things. “Got it?”

“Long as it’s not another dame,” you mumbled, fisting his necklace around your fist, dragging him forward for emphasis. A smile tugged at his lips, somehow pleased with your response. “What? You been out the house more times than not.”

“I share you with my brother,” Miguel worked the back of his neck. “Better that I skip town than hear you moaning for him. Might hem him up one of these days.”

You laugh-- but Miguel doesn’t find a lick of it funny.

“You got me now,” your hands drifted up to Miguel’s massive shoulders. “How ‘bout this. You fill me all up for church, wear that spiffy dark blue suit. Then we take Lyla out to get her some cherry coke at the apothecary’s. Maybe I’ll even sing you a whole song today if you’re lucky.”

Church, again. Miguel rattled a groan. Of course, he couldn’t have one day off from frateurinizing with people who hated the fuck outta him. Church folk. He didn’t know why you insisted on going with people who openly called you loose.

“Can do without one of those things.”

“If you want me, you go to iglesia, Miguelito.”

West-Side Violence at All-Time High! Italian Enforcer found dead! The West clan’s Gabriel O’Hara facing added charges on suspicion of--

Tch. You interrupted the scowl on his face with a well-placed kiss to his cheekbone, sliding a piping hot mug of Joe before him. Wafts of steam warmed his cheeks. You set down his morning’s breakfast, a plate loaded with fats. No tamales today, but baked beans from a few well-established Irish wives in the area. You wiped your greasy fingers off on a dirtied apron. Miguel stabbed a hunk of sausage as you spoke.

“Gabi’d never do that. They’re trying to hem him up like that capo last month,” your voice quaked, strutting back toward the cabinets. “It’s too personal. He’d… fill ‘em up with lead sure, but a stabbing? It just don’t make sense.”

Sure didn't. Miguel dropped the paper to the side of the oak table, tracing lines of worry that grew into spiderwebs of panic across your forehead. You spoke so feverishly in defense of Gabriel, whose absence was palpable. He often talked about the latest hired singer, sneaking behind your waist for kisses on your nape when Miguel could barely drag himself out of bed in the morning after pulling all-nighters.

“I have someone on it.”

“I bet Papa did it.” His daughter-- or Gabriel’s-- they were never quite sure. He glanced to his foot where Lyla sat. A full seven-year-old, Lyla was a spitfire of a thing, her hair in a bouncy bob topped by a silky ribbon. She glanced up from the dreidel she was spinning around and around. His lips pulled into a minced smile. “What? He’s a liar.”

“Miguel.”

Couldn’t even eat in peace.

“Lyla,” Miguel gestured toward the door. “Go wake up Maeve. Go on kid, get.”

That kid had a smart mouth. He watches her roll her eyes, only budging when you supply her with a hunk of pan dulce. She takes a mean bite, eyes locked on Miguel as she hopped out, somehow less bothered than she was a few seconds ago. You closed the metal door behind your daughter, a hand balled up on the bend in your waist as you watched her skip down the stairs and out of view.

“Most girls don’t talk like that about their papas,” you mumbled. Your arms crossed one over the other for support. “Does she hate him that much?”

“Most girls don’t grow up in the life.”

“Mi culpa.”

With his breakfast all but spoiled, Miguel pushed the plate away. His hand was soft on your waist, nose burrowed into your hair, tracing the notes of jasmine and rose, vanilla and sandalwood. The scent was unmarred by the stench of speakeasy smoke so early in the morning. Your hand came over his, steadying yourself from the rushing thoughts by leaning into his touch.

“I need a girl at the speakeasy tonight.”

Unlike his brother, Miguel’s requests rarely offer a tone of choice. It rolls off his tongue dry and hits your ear like a spike. Nothing about your relationship with Miguel was easy-- it was marred by the rivalry among the brothers-- and as you suspected-- interloping from your grandfather.

“Y Lyla?”

“Maeve is her nanny.”

“How can I step in there without Gabi?”

“He’d want you to. And I want to see you out of this dumb apron.”

“It isn’t dumb,” you pursed your lips, somehow more convinced despite your reservations. Most days, you spend the day in the house-- isolated from any life you came to Nueva York for. Any half-formed excuse that was on your tongue flopped. He nearly has you. “It is right dumb, isn’t it?”

“Sure is. What happened to my canary?”

“She met a pair of terrible brothers who don’t care for pulling out.”

“Don’t blame me.”

He pushed himself against your back, twiddling your fingers against the pantyhose that clothed your thighs. A smile tugged on your lips as Miguel leaned over to kick the front door shut, dipping onto his knees. It wasn’t often that he allowed you to ruin his perfect face before work. Today is a special treat.

But… if you thought back, you really should have.

Took a long time to get any mail from the island. Almost impossible.

In your hands is a sloppily penned letter-- You should be married to one of those boys-- your grandfather. He isn’t stupid enough to think that you’re opening this for the first time tonight, here and now, right in front of him. If you’re ‘reading’ it, you must be wanting him to take a hint. Miguel bent down, placed a kiss on your temple, gliding his hands over your own to place the letter onto the vanity.

He used those very same hands that were meant for maiming against the clasp of a set of pearls around your neck with gentle precision. His fingers coursed along the curls at your nape as he clasped them together.

“How long before your set?”

“Half an hour… maybe.” You stood to face him, pursing ruby-red lips, whispering in his mother’s tongue. He never liked it when his mother barked at him in Spanish, but when it's off your tongue, he knows how sweet it could be. Your hand inched its way over his chest, tracing the fat knot against his throat.

“What’s the issue?”

“I don’t-- feel very perfect. You have all these shebas out there--” women who not only knew how to sing but weren’t terribly mottled by stretchmarks or burdened by the eviscerating effect of motherhood. They’re beautiful, free canaries when they sing in his speakeasy. As much as you loved singing-- you felt shy on that ruby-red stage lately, before a dozen ruby tables and the hopping band.

“They’re to bring in the sugar.”

“Uh-huh, bring in the sugar until they take you away.”

“I’m satisfied.” Miguel took a step up, communicating the way he knew how, by settling his large hand over your jaw. His strong hand glided to your chin, urging you to look him in the eye. “I’m not going anywhere. Tied me down with Lyla as it is.”

“Words are just words. Why buy the…”

“Cow if you can get the milk for free, sí, I know what your grandfather says.” He slips into your chair. “Què quieres?”

“I don’t know, Miguelito. A promise. A marriage. Algo.”

“You want me to wife you up? Don’t remember ever talking about this.” He gestured you to come closer. You stepped up, knocking between his legs. Miguel’s gaze falters, chasing the glint of your tassels as they come to a stop.

“What’s the issue?”

“Nothing. I thought you’d ask Gabe.”

“Gabe gets around.”

“You believe those rumors.” You slap his large hands groping up your thighs, climbing over his lap like it was your throne. His massive frame eclipses the chair, suppressing your comparatively smaller frame. “And don’t think I do?”

“Do you?”

“No,” he laughs. Or, not recently. It’s hard being a father-- harder when he has a whole ass business to keep on top of. Most women wanted those things: jewels, a new pair of silk knickers, and a home. “If that’s what you want, you got it.”

“Oh Miguelito,” he suckled your neck, drawing horrendous marks to the surface. Marks of his ownership in the absence of a ring. He hears the pleased hum of your voice, low and sweet, and knows that’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

“I haven’t put in my cap,” his fingers danced across the outside of your thighs, slipping past your stockings to your silken shorts. He slotted his fingers underneath the fabric, grazing his fingers through your neatly kept curls. Your breath came in deeper bursts as he melded his hand over your vulva, expecting you to grind back on him. You did, ever so eager for him.

“Don’t bother me with that,” he said in a low, husked voice. “You know how I feel about your birth control.”

It was your idea, primarily. Gabe was ever too content to simply be with you-- he didn’t need a large family like the rest of Miguel’s Irish clan. Four, six, sometimes more. Unlike Gabe, Miguel wanted the exact opposite. You shifted over his thigh, obeying his desire to have you ride him. Miguel urged your hips down, working his thumb over the precious button as you did. Miguel’s leg trembled up against your slit, bursts of warm friction warming your hungry body. With his slacks freshly cleaned, you worry about soaking them, soaked in lubricant as you were.

“Come here,” you surrendered a soft moan to him, leaning forward now, less to ride his thigh than the bulge in his slacks. He does not quite care for the idea of ruining himself inside the confines of his pants, but if you want to feel him, he has no reason to deny you. You’re wonderfully spoiled, juddering your hips over him like any whore walking the streets in exchange for a coin or two. What he’d give to have this to himself.

It donned on him-- he could have it to himself. This time, he’d be certain of who the child belonged to. He adored his Lyla, though his irritation with her quips was ever palpable, this-- right here, the ability to fill you and be certain filled him with fat hunger and possessive need to burst into his slacks.

“Stop-- Muñeca-- stop,” Miguel tipped his head back, gathering his focus by digging his hand into your hair, stopping you immediately. His harsh grip loosened, followed up by loosening the button of his slacks and shoving them below the curve of his ass. His cock slapped your silken shorts, beads of his desire dripping from his cockhead. “Take those off. I’m finishing inside.”

“Miguelito,” you slipped onto shaky feet, enough that Miguel could force the shorts underneath your dress to the floor. “We agreed that babies would be--”

“You asked to be my wife. Ain’t this what wives do?”

“I know bu-- not there, deja, let me,” you stopped. His cockhead clumsily poked here and there, until finally, your hand guided him properly. Your mouth fell into a hazy moan when Miguel’s cock shoved forward, breaching your cunt with a snap of his hips. You seated yourself back onto his fat cock, reminded of the absence of your cervical cap in your cunt.

For all your talk, you ached for him, dipping your intertwined hands down to your mound. The rhythm was as sloppy as whatever singer was on stage right now, her voice giving way into a distinct crack. Whatever-- if it bought him more time to properly seed you, he didn’t mind.

He buckled forward as you clenched down upon him, holding him prisoner deep in your body. Liquid soaked his slacks-- and Miguel huffed, puffs of hot air warming your back. That was going to be fun to walk out in. His wife’s cum soaking his crotch.

“Hold still. It’s almost showtime,” Miguel’s voice was thin, his hand splayed on your waist as he used you less like his woman and more like a toy for his pleasure. It didn’t take long for Miguel to find a proper rhythm, his muscles flexing against your back. You were preoccupied as it were with the pain of Miguel’s teeth sinking on your shoulder, spiking hot as his pleasure crested. Soon enough, you felt his warmth fill your core, your head lulling back against him only after his thrusts ebbed.

“Don’t clean up, go on stage leaking.” Miguel held out his hand for you to take, allowing you to pull your shorts back up your ass, nestling his leaking cum in the fabric. It helped ease the anxiety of having you on stage, somehow, to see you in such a state.

“When you knock me up, you’re telling Gabi. I... can't.” You told Miguel, smoothing your dress over your shorts. There was a nervous flush in your eyes-- shame, he placed the emotion. He scrubbed the smile from his face. He had at least a few weeks.

“Sure thing.”

There was a certain delight in seeing you dressed up in that little black dress, all bright red lips, and sultry song. Not that you didn’t look tasty in that stupid apron you wore not to dirty any one of the pretty dresses you wore to church-- like you weren’t a heathen for warming the bed of two O’Hara boys. The people knew it. The church knew it. Damn well, the town knew it.

“Pal, that’s her on stage,” went an Italian boy. An allied family through nothing but contract killing and coin, he was safe here for the time being. One little lapse in a contract could shake it all. “That’s their kitten.”

“She married?”

Miguel turned his gaze back to you for a long moment. Your warm, sweetly lidded words slipping off your tongue, making his mind sluggish and relaxed after a long day. He captured your eyes, minding how your hands fell to the tasseled ends of an already short skirt, daring to expose your skin obscured by pantyhose to the crowd. You knew the game, how far you could lift your skirt without your would-be husband jumping his cage.

“Don’t be goofy. Miguel’d get sore if Gabe tried. She has ‘em both around her finger. Has a kid by one of them. No one knows whose. I got my money on--”

Stupid kids.

“Kid, I’m gunning for another.” Miguel cut the boy off, eyes crinkling at the edges. Something in the way you moved on stage reminded him of Lyla’s pregnancy, perhaps the glitter in your eyes when you met him at his table, instead of backstage, holding his large hands in your own. Some sparkle in your eye, a ginger announcement in his ear. Half elation, half… something else. Something, not quite fear, swirled in the boy’s eyes. Miguel watched with a keen interest as the boy flushed.

“Right on, big shot.”

Miguel brought his cigarette to his lips, letting his eyes flutter closed and his mind wander to the past. He should have known you were hands-off from the moment Gabriel wouldn’t beat it with the idea of adding another girl to their speakeasy.

The best time to tell Miguel about his new girl in the speakeasy was when he was in a good mood: catching any bootleg thief put him in a good mood. Not that he was particularly partial to grey matter and blood spraying him like a fresh pinata, but… he was more partial to money in his pocket and a good reputation. His boys cared for much of the violence in the West of this shitty little town.

“You hired a new girl?” Miguel repeated, drawing a long hit of his cigarette with blood-smattered fingers.

“Spanish girl. Like us. We don’t have a Spanish girl in this joint.”

“Gabe. Most of our clients are Irish. They don’t speak Spanish.”

“You should see her Miggy. She’s got this angelic little face,” Gabe whacked his elder brother, his grin growing ear to ear. There it was, his baby brother got blinded by his dick again. “When she sings you-- well, you get all twisted up.”

“Angelic face,” Miguel mumbled under his breath, tapping excess off of his cigarette. For the price he paid his girls, she had better have the face of Mary herself. The last few Gabe had pulled were mistakes. Some drug-addicted. Others whose husbands always caused a mean stir. He drags his hand down his face, weighing the costs. “She another dumb--”

“She’s Daniel’s littlin’. You remember Daniel? Taught you how to use a kn--”

The sigh that sat in his chest dissipated like vapor, perfusing into his tissue. Miguel looked at the paper Gabriel set in his blood-tinged fingers. He rotated it, gave it a look with his tired eyes. Talk to Gabriel. That old man knew just what Miguel would have said: get your ass back on a boat and go home to whatever rinky-dink island you foolishly sailed off of for this shitty city.

“Lemme see her sing.”

He doesn’t pay attention when Gabriel introduces you onstage for the first time, focusing on the paper ledgers Peter arranged for a review. Unlike his Italian connections, he don’t mind mixing it up with the Jewish boys. They’re twice as smart on the books and twice less likely to be hauling in trouble. Bootleg booze was one thing— the opium, the heroin, the cocaine, and morphine another. It packed too much heat from the coppers.

He hadn’t meant to look up.

It didn’t occur to him that you could have a sickly sweet voice, tempered by the rich Spanish on your tongue, only rivaled by those beautiful looks. His abandoned ciggy threw smoke into the air. He slumped back into the chair with a heavy thud, unclenched his tense jaw, and listened to a siren’s song that felt both familiar and distant all the same.

You had the sort of eyes he swore he’d met before, despite knowing he’d never seen a face like yours around. He’d remember sinking his teeth in that delicate neck that sat under pearls that he supplied most of his singers for their performances. His eyes hungrily cantering down your tassel dress. Not one he provided, no, he knew most to all the pieces in the back. There was a simple beauty in the gown.

You were trouble. He caught your eyes with an intent expression and expected you to blush and look away. You smiled. He wasn’t sure if it was for him or Gabriel, who flicked a grade-A smile, and a twiddling wave of your little fingers. He wants to feel them scratching down his back.

“--anyone home? Miggy? Miguel. Don’t tell me you’re already stuck on her.” Gabriel teased, elbowing Miguel in the arm. “You are! Told you she could sing.”

“Pipe down.” He jammed his ciggy in the dish.

“Sorry.”

He watches you a moment more, the slide of your legs to the tune of the band. The way your laugh resonated through the speakeasy when a patron stumbled onto the stage for his take on some stiff-legged swing. Most women would push them off, look to him for help in the swing, but you ran with the twirl the drunk led you into. He hated to admit that Gabriel was right. Among all the girls in his speakeasy, you brought a lightness to the life of a drunkard he’d not seen in a while.

“Gabe,” he mumbled, standing up and whirling his suit jacket over his broad shoulders.

“Yeah?”

I told’ja so, Gabriel’s voice sounded in his head. He could already feel the stiff annoyance that would be Gabriel’s fist connecting with his shoulder. Why did Gabriel have to know him so well? Miguel spoke with an undercurrent of annoyance.

“Let’s keep her.”

“You don’t gotta tell me twice.”

A hail of loud pops ruptured his sweet, distant memories. He reaches out to snatch his gun from the table, settled between the fresh flowers he plucked for your show. For an instant, his world wasn’t quiet. It wasn’t sounded out by the deafening assuredness of a kill, but very real panic under the singled out by the shrill of your scream.

They're going to push up on us, Miguel told Gabe. He never did take anything outside the speakeasy seriously.

Except tonight, there was no Gabriel. Miguel clasped his hand around his gun, whirling for the source of the flame. The barrage of gunfire is put down as quickly as it began. With a host of Irishmen in the bar, he should be so unsurprised. One of the Italian kids slumped over on his table.

There’s blood-- a lot of blood. Hysterics bound all around, some soothed by their partners or friends. The other Italian boy just stares-- lips slightly apart-- jarred by whatever horror was before him. Miguel finds it hard to believe that he hasn’t seen worse. Others burning his ears like the morning sun in his eyeballs every day you forgot to pull the curtains closed.

“God damn it, Peter.” Standing there is the scrawny little devil of a bookmaker himself, smiling cheesily.

“Hope that’s a good god damn it.”

He shoved his way from the tables, numbing out the complaint of the Italian boy. You were long since gone, probably a good thing that you weren’t here, that’s for fucking sure. It’d been the first time since Gabe’s incarceration he managed to drag you out of there and now… you were somewhere, undoubtedly frightened. Maybe even hurt.

“Boy, wonder who this kid crossed. Say, about Gabe, I got good news--”

He seized a chair, flicking it past Peter, a sure hiss for him to shut the fuck up about his baby brother in the can. Peter put his hands up reflexively, tracing Miguel’s rising shoulders.

“She ran to the back.”

The slender hallway down to his office is cold, only illuminated by the occasional pull-pin light bulb swinging overhead. He came here most days that he wasn’t on shift, taking a hit, or caring for his boys. Keeping track of everything was the best way to stay ahead. And even still-- he missed something from one of Spot’s boys.

You didn’t bother to close the door, balled up in a corner of his small office. He has a glorified cot for a bed in a corner, a heavy desk that nearly killed Gabe trying to hike it down the stairs years ago, and a rack stuffed with any number of books.

“It’s me,” his voice filled the room. You peered up from behind your arms, wrapped around your knees. What a stupid oversight, he thought, whoever was in charge of the damn door let someone in that was… going to be a problem. He was good with Lucky’s crew. Now he was gonna have to pick up that wired phone and tell him some kid was dead.

Your heels scratched across the ground, scooting back to the cool wall. You weren’t hurt-- just, sort of shocked. Maybe being conned into church with you panned out somehow.

“Muñeca.”

“That ain’t… ever happened with Gabe before.”

Gabe. Dy by day that he heard his brother’s voice, it became more of an annoyance. It wasn’t fair to make the comparison-- Gabe caring for most things that went on in the speakeasy, Miguel caring for interpersonal deals and security. With Gabe away, he’d not… it didn’t matter.

“It won’t happen again.”

“If Lyla were here--” You’re a shark-- going after the one thing you knew would hurt. The little girl back at home who he went to great lengths to make sure was safe. She was… his, even if he felt was his brother’s, putting more salt into an ever widening sinkhole that was his irritation.

“She wasn’t.”

“But what if she was?”

“Cállate,” he barked.

“Fine, I’ll beat it. You can holed up all alone down here like you like to be, you-- you-- big lug.” You recoiled for an instant, before forcing yourself up, rubbing at heavily fallen tears in your pursuit of the door. Your cheeks were kissed by raw agitation, all pink and in any other situation, beautiful. Miguel swayed to catch your elbow.

“Discúlpame,” he murmured, a rare apology if you could even call it one to begin with. There was a long pause, and he wondered if you would be upset with him for the rest of the day. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

He knew he made it damn hard not to.

That was the thing about Miguel. He made it hard to get close, but even harder to leave. No matter what he did, you wanted to stay there right by him-- because he was the complicated brother. The one who… well, hell, you wanted to be about. Gabe was good and easy, your Miguelito was…

“Dios mio, Miguelito. This hinky stuff ain’t happening again. Or-- Or I’ll leave you both. Take Lyla right back to the island I came from and marry a man who isn’t in wrong with the police.”

You should have known the day that you gave birth to his daughter that something like that wasn’t going to happen.

#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #atsv imagines #atsv imagine #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara imagine #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara x reader

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thatsdemko · 1 year

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dicked down in Dallas - d.ricciardo

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

warnings: + not intended for minors + mentions of oral (m receiving)

a/n: 🤠howdy partners let’s yee our haws together!!! also big shoutout to @diorleclerc for reading some of this xx luv u babes

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

She's probably in the Lonestar state

Sucking off ol' what's his name

everything is bigger in texas. whether that be the men, the food, or the cars. everything’s just bigger in the lonestar state.

and you’ve come to realize that, having never crossed the boarder to America until the opportunity to work in formula one, you took the chance having traveled the world twice over now, but texas was new. and boy, it didn’t disappoint to its name.

the cowboy boots and hats were no joke, they were everywhere. from the tiny bars to the gas stations, boots and a cowboy hat seemed to be the perfect attire to conquer the blistering sun.

“what do you reckon I buy one of those?” Daniel jokes pointing to the young boy who’s boots are up to his knees. they were caked in mud and the skin on the toe of the boots seemed to be fading.

“you? in cowboy boots?” you turn to him to see if he’s joking, but his eyes tell you he’s serious.

you’ve always had a little thing for Daniel. he just was so easy and approachable, people loved him and it was obvious why. you just didn’t expect that with more time your heart would grow fonder of his presence.

“why not? I think I’d look sexy.” he shrugs, two of you watch his dad fan himself with the brim of his hat. it seemed to be the texas heat was getting to the fans as well.

you think for a moment, trying to picture him in the boots, but your mind falls short, “I’d like to see it.” you turn back over to him. he just nods running his fingers over his beard.

you watch him for a moment, he’s humming a little country tune to himself he heard from the bars last night, before he struts off with a social media intern ready to take on the stage with Lando.

you’re not sure what you’ve got yourself into, but you know damn well your words got him thinking.

—

you hear the sounds of the horse shoes clicking against the pavement. it’s a bit of a different noise for a formula one circuit, but the laughter and excitement all sound the same. the sound of the horses breathing does make you turn around, and when you do you’re greeted go a big brown horse strut it’s way through the paddock with no one other than Daniel on top.

he’s shaved now, the only thing left is a goatee. he’s sporting a tan colored cowboy hat, a jacket of the American flag, and of course, those cowboy boots.

“you want a ride, baby girl?” he jokes as the horse comes to a halt in front of you. you can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous this is, but ultimately you give in and join him on the saddle.

“you’re ridiculous, Dan.” you laugh, hands gripping his the belt loops of his bell bottom jeans feeling the horse jerk a stop finally reaching its destination and allowing fans to swarm around and help Daniel off.

“you’re the one saying you wanted to see it, so here I am. your sexy cowboy.” he gestures to the outfit not giving you enough time to clap back before turning to sign autographs and take pictures. he’s crazy, always trying to prove a point, but he was right about one thing.

he was a sexy cowboy.

—

your knock is soft against his drivers door. his voice is barely audible, but you still open the door and see his cowboy hat rested on the bench next to his helmet.

the race wasn’t perfect for him. but there was one thing on your mind the whole time you watched him whip around that track. how sexy he looked in those cowboy boots.

“howdy,” you slid into the room, door closing quietly behind you. you move over to the bench and pick up his tan rimmed hat, placing it on his head, “you do make a sexy cowboy.” you admit watching his head lift upwards, eyebrows knitting together.

“I told you so.” he mutters, his hand reaches for the hat on his head, but you stop adjusting it to sit further down on his head.

you slip beside him on the bench, elbow crashing into his bicep, “I don’t know if you know, but I really like cowboys.” you whisper, his eyes watch you lean against the wall of the room, “it’s a shame I never got my texas wish.” you sigh, arms crossing over your chest.

“what texas wish?” he flips to look at you, eyes full of curiosity as he leans a bit closer to your body. you chuckle at how eager he is to know what it is.

“come on, you know every girl wants to ride a cowboy at some point in their life.”

he shakes his head, swallowing the salvia that’s thickening in his mouth, “no I didn’t know that.”

you shrug pulling the brim of his hat, setting it beside him on the bench, “well I’ll just try again next year.” you’re about to get up when he puts the hat back on, lips crashing against yours. he knows there’s no next year for him, it’s not in the books yet, and he wants no one else to take that from you.

“you can ride me.” he grits between his teeth, your hands hold onto his hat, the brim collided with your forehead, it almost fell off.

“you’ll be my cowboy?” you ask in between breaths watching him fall against the bench, his own fingers work quick to pull down his pants and underwear.

you can feel a smirk fall onto your lips as you kick off your own pants as well situating yourself on top of him, “ride me.” he whines, hands on your hips, he’s guiding you the way he likes it.

it doesn’t take long for you to find the grind he likes, moisture thickening in between your inner thighs. he watches your head tilt back, eyes shut as moans escape your lips. it feels good, everything you’re doing for him, and the little he’s providing for you is getting you off.

he juts his hips upwards so you can feel how hard he is beneath you. you work your way down his body, fingers working his shaft before touching his tip. a moan escapes his lips, you can feel him stiffen under your touch. he feels the wetness of your tongue swirl around, sweet moans of your name escape his mouth.

his hands fly into your hair, you can hear his breathing increase, your name is faint against his lips but it sounds so good.

“you really know how to make a cowboy feel good.” he grunts, cum meeting your mouth.

“it’s not my first rodeo, ricciardo.”

She's gettin' dicked down in Dallas

Railed out in Raleigh

Tag teamed up in Tennessee

Analed in Austin

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telemi · 2 years

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𓄹 ࣪ ִֶָ modern au headcanons ft. genshin men

# includes. ayato, albedo, childe (tartaglia), xiao, zhongli, diluc, kazuha

# cw. none

៸៸ ◟KAMISATO AYATO !

the eldest son and the heir to one of the largest business corporates in the country. he’s very handsome, much more if you meet him in person. despite his family background, he doesn’t really want to attract too much attention to himself, saying that it’s too bothersome to smile and wave for the cameras flashing all around him. he also goes to uni at the most prestigious school in the country! of course he aces all his tests and passes every year with flying colors. think about it; a handsome, young man who’s destined to inherit such a large company, and one who acts like a gentleman every. single. second. who cannot be envious of such a person?

៸៸ ◟CHILDE !

he’s an international famous athlete, particularly in football. he loves, loves, LOVES the attention so in response, the crowd would continuously cheer and applaud for him whenever he’s on the field. he would be the type to send a wink for the enamored eyes to see and acts insensible when the crowd goes wild. after his long matches, he would be the first one to get huddled into a group of people who wants his autograph. when asked if he’s in a relationship, he simply responds by saying, “ah, let’s leave that up to your imagination.” and the crowd goes absolutely crazy.

៸៸ ◟DILUC RAGNVINDR !

he’s the owner of a small coffee shop residing near a clear, beautiful lake. it makes the location super convenient for romantic dates or friendly hangouts. he pretty much enjoys his job and loves to organize the interior as he wishes. he places small flower pots on the counter to stare at it or to make the shop appealing to the public eye. at first glance he may seem strict and grumpy (well he is) but once you get to know him well, he interacts with you very kindly. just don’t step too close in his line of comfort, or else he’ll have to send you a cold glare and make you leave the shop in shame.

+ bonus: he actually has a small turtle pin that’s hidden in his pocket. he refuses to wear it though :((

៸៸ ◟ALBEDO !

a painter who seeks inspiration for his future works. he doesn’t stay in one place, and by that i mean he goes into different places to collect pictures of objects he finds interesting. such places include: the local park, a public aquarium, an amusement park, etc. he mostly wears sweaters and a camera on his front, not to mention his bag which contains a notepad and a small, blank canvas. he might even find a suitable person for him to paint ;))

៸៸ ◟KAEDEHARA KAZUHA !

he’s a musician who composes intricate pieces of music. he loves playing the flute and his very own guitar!! he definitely treasures it like his own child. he would also be the type of person who places hair clips on his hair, preferably if he's writing music. (his bangs get in the way of his line of sight and it irks him to some extent) he occasionally plays in a band as the lead guitarist and people always come to their concerts!! after their concert ends, his main go-to is to run to the nearest convenience store to buy yogurt and just sit outside for some fresh air.

៸៸ ◟XIAO !

he’s a popular live streamer known for his insane rhythm game skills (IDK IT JUST FITS HIM IN A WAY WAHHWHA) and fps shooting games!! yes, yes he does rage quit sometimes. his signature style is a black shirt or a black sweater, he absolutely loves it because it keeps him warm all the time. a common warning when watching his streams is to NEVER watch it without a headset on because ohh boy, a load of curses spill from his lips, time to time. most of his viewers spoil him by sending super chats every time he’s streaming! i don't make the rules.

៸៸ ◟KAEYA ALBERICH !

A VERY FAMOUS MODEL!! he has to wear a mask every time he goes out because practically everyone notices even the tiniest features of him. he may seem a little flirtatious when you first met him but once you get to know his other side, he’s incredibly shy in the gut. a mix of shy + flirty if that makes sense. he loves to post pictures all the time on his social media accounts. he posts practically about everything; his breakfast, his facial care routine, or even when he’s getting ready for a shoot.

៸៸ ◟ZHONGLI !

he’s a college professor in history and students are absolutely smitten by him. his age is definitely not young but his appearance is! his silky, chestnut-colored hair and his youthful glow certainly gained him the title of ‘that one handsome professor’. AND he once joked about how he thought students would find his history classes boring, unbeknownst to the enamored and longing stares of his students. he loves to offer help most of the time but declines whenever a student gets too touchy or personal with him. he has a passion for teaching, really. so don’t hesitate to ask him anything that relates to history ;))

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meganlpie · 6 months

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I Can Still Sense Him

Based on this request: Hey, if requests are still open I was going to ask for a Supernatural request where the reader (fem) is Gabriel’s human mate. When he dies shes devastated and everyone says she’s delusional because she can still…sense him. But then he really is alive and decides he can’t take hiding anymore and just comes back out into the open To be with her

Here you are, lovely! As always, I do not own ANY SPN characters. They belong to the writers/creators of the show.

Warnings: Destined mates, angst(mentions of death), fluff, and it's a little short.

Pairings: Gabriel x fem!reader, The Winchesters.

Most people would hate someone that caused the "death" of a person they cared for multiple times. But when you officially met Gabriel, you didn't see the same Trickster that the Winchesters saw. You saw someone broken and lonely. Someone a lot like you. You also immediately saw that he was not a typical Trickster. You'd seen his wings. A sign of an angel's destined mate.

So of course, you'd pleaded with the Winchesters to let him go. They had trusted your judgment and did as you asked. After that, Gabriel made a habit of popping in to see you every now and again. You certainly didn't mind. Even if you hadn't known you were destined mates, the connection between you two was undeniable. You spent as much time as you could with him.

He made you laugh, no matter the situation, and after a while, you could not deny that you fell in love with him. You got butterflies whenever he turned those honey-colored eyes on you. Or when he smiled at you. You wanted to be with him as often as possible. But, before you could admit to the mischievous angel that you loved him, he was gone. Taken from you.

After the Winchesters and Castiel told you about Gabriel's death, you were devastated to say the least. You completely shut down. Hardly ate or slept, refused to hunt. You became a shell of yourself for what seemed like a long time. But just when you were at your lowest, you started to feel…something. You couldn't describe it, but it almost felt like Gabriel was still with you in some way. There were times you felt so at ease, like you could feel him hugging you close or hear him whispering in your ear. It brought you peace whenever you were alone.

When the Winchesters questioned why you suddenly started acting like yourself again, you couldn't really explain it. You knew they'd jump to the different, albeit possible, conclusion that you were being haunted by something else. Or they'd think you were crazy. But the two men were very persistent and didn't trust sudden changes in the people they cared about or hunted with. So you had to try and explain.

"I-I don't know how to explain it, guys. I just…started feeling better. Like Gabriel's still with me. Like he's here and helping me." As you suspected, the two exchanged a look like they didn't believe you.

"Gabriel's gone, Y/N," Sam said softly, earning an eye roll from you. "I know that, Sam! Can't you let me have just a little sense of peace for once?! I lost the love of my life, something I thought you of all people would understand!" You didn't wait for him to reply before you got up and stomped out of the room. Was it a low blow? Yes. But you felt Sam had it coming in that moment.

For weeks after that, you didn't speak to Sam at all and talked to Dean only when you had to. He had not said anything to you about your feelings, but you knew he thought you were insane as well. Even Cas thought there was something wrong with you. Still, you held onto that feeling, that sense, that Gabriel was somehow still with you. Even if it was only in spirit. Then, it happened.

You were in Vegas (go figure) with the boys on a hunt. The hunt lead you to a hotel room. Dean wanted to go crashing into the room like an 80s TV cop, but you rolled your eyes and knocked on the door. The door opened and you swore your heart stopped.

"Hey, Sweetcheeks. Miss me?"

"G-Gabriel?" you squeaked out as tears formed in your eyes and you lowered your weapon. He smiled at you. Turning to Dean beside you, you asked, "Am I dreaming? Am I dead?" Dean simply shook his head, unable to form words. You wasted no time in launching yourself into the archangel's arms. Gabriel let out a huff followed by a light laugh.

"I missed you too, Lollipop." You gripped onto the back of his shirt as he held you. "I knew I felt you." He laughed again. "Sorry I disappeared on you. I had to make dear Luci think I was gone. My…buddy Loki's been letting me hide out as him for a while, but I couldn't take it anymore. I needed to see you again," his whispered to you. "I'm just gonna…" Dean stated, trailing off before turning to leave you and Gabriel alone.

Gabriel lead you fully into the room and shut the door. "The guys thought I was crazy," you stated and Gabriel shook his head. "I wanted to make sure you knew I'd never leave you if I didn't have to." You gripped onto him again. Truthfully, you were terrified to let go. "It's alright," Gabriel whispered, "I'm sticking around for a while. I'm not leaving my mate alone again." And when his lips met yours for the first time in so long, you knew he was telling the truth.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Also, how do we feel about Gabriel calling the reader "Lollipop"? I thought it was a cute nickname, but if you hate it, I won't use it in future Gabriel fics.)

Forever Tags: @fizzyxcustard @brewsthespirit-blog @sirkekselord @aikibriarrose @lady-of-lies @motleymoose @esoltis280 @stories-by-shanna-p @dark-angel-is-back @supernatural4life2022

SPN Tags: @jotink78

#supernatural #spn #gabriel #gabriel x reader

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ridestomars · 9 months

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LAST CHANCE ON THE STAIRWAY – S. HARRINGTON HEADCANONS

𖥻 summary: fake dating old money!steve. 𖥻 pairing: old money!steve harrington x fem!reader. 𖥻 warnings: no mentions of y/n, not proofread - we die like men here.

💭 liv's thoughts: it's been a long time since i've written something, so i decided to make my big comeback with a concept that is very dear to me <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

♡ㆍWhen Steve comes up with (as he called it) a "miraculous, failproof" plan, he wouldn't stop trying to persuade you to join in. It will get to the point of being annoying, because being the brat that he is, this boy can't take a no.

♡ㆍAnd that is why he is doing everything in his power to make you take up on his offer, which means that he is showering you with useless gifts just for the sake of you saying yes.

♡ㆍBooks, cassettes, clothes, vinyl records… heck, even a brand new Walkman. He is truly going all in – and the plan hasn't even begun.

♡ㆍThe thing is: Steve is one stubborn guy, and when he makes up his mind about something, he is going to get it. And he has decided that instead of getting a girlfriend the way normal people do, he has to have you as his fake girlfriend.

♡ㆍYou could argue that it's because you're one of his, erhm… less fortunate friends, but deep down, Steve knows that this is his only shot at getting you as his girl.

♡ㆍTo him, it's like you're this very unattainable girl, someone who's so different from everyone he's known his whole life. You do things for yourself, and you're so ahead of him in so many ways that Steve thinks that you'll never give him a real chance. So, he has to make do with this fake shot at getting to your heart.

♡ㆍAnd boy, does he grab that chance by the horns.

♡ㆍEven though you made it very clear that you were still very much friends, and you didn't want this to get too close to comfort, Steve is already thinking about your matching clothes for his parents' annual gala, and planning a romantic date on the golf course at the town's club. Only because his rich friends will be there to witness you playing together, and you "gotta make this relationship seem believable!" His words, not yours.

♡ㆍSo, of course, he's going to bring you to his favorite rich-boy activities.

♡ㆍThe first, which is his most dear, is shopping. And it's something, as you found out, that he does pretty much daily –– spending one hundred bucks like it's absolutely nothing. But, hey! Steve was never known for being responsible, was he?

♡ㆍHe takes you everywhere, slowly finding out your personal tastes and favorite stores, and you're pleasantly surprised with how much you enjoy shopping with him.

♡ㆍSteve is all for the silly antics: picking out a dozen clothes and making a ridiculous fashion show in the fitting room's small hallway, or wearing clothes that are the wrong size just to hear you giggle and tease him.

♡ㆍIt's nice to have him there for support since he always encourages you to try things you wouldn't have otherwise. Steve is not one to be afraid of making a bold fashion statement, and he wants you to feel secure enough to do the same if you want to.

♡ㆍSo, if you see something that shows a little more skin than you're used to, or maybe a bright color you have never tried before, he is going to be your number one supporter. It does help that he finds you absolutely beautiful no matter what you wear.

♡ㆍShopping with Stevie also means that you are coming home with a bunch of shopping bags, but don't worry! He will carry all of them for you, even if it covers his whole arm, because he doesn't want you to ruin your fresh manicure.

♡ㆍBut besides shopping, Steve always invites you to go to the club to play golf, or tennis with him… even though you have no idea how.

♡ㆍSteve is convinced he is a good teacher, though. And that is what opens the door for opportunities for him to hold you tightly against his body, his big hands holding your arms as he explains how you should grip the golf club, or the tennis racket.

♡ㆍHe keeps telling you that it's good to be close to you like this to show you off to his friends, but with time, the excuses fade as you both discover that touching is good, and that there's nothing better than to be in each other's arms.

♡ㆍThose lingering touches, small smiles, and longing stares are almost like an unconscious thing that happens between the both of you, and you find yourself enraptured by them, completely forgetting about the boundaries you had set to avoid getting too caught up in this fake relationship.

♡ㆍBut it's difficult when Steve is the best fake boyfriend you could ever ask for. If you thought that he was just a good friend, man, you're in for the most delightful ride of your life… because if you feel like you're getting the lines between your real emotions and your fake relationships blurry, Steve had already jumped headfirst in it.

♡ㆍHis attentiveness just triplicates, and it's like he just wants to please you all the time. But it all happens so naturally that you start to wonder if dating him was supposed to happen sooner or later in your life; it just feels like the next step, really.

♡ㆍAnd what surprises you the most is that you could complain about his intensity or his blatant crush on you, but you don't want to.

♡ㆍIt's just needless to say that you're in big, big trouble.

♡ㆍBut let's talk about the good stuff, shall we?

♡ㆍHaving so many gorgeous outfits, it's only natural that he will help you pick out great combinations for your nights out, especially when you have to attend his parents' events together. Trust me, he's gonna make sure you go either with matching colors, matching fabrics, or matching designers.

♡ㆍYou are the only reason why those types of gatherings get bearable for him, honestly.

♡ㆍLike I said in a previous post, the Harrington family is renowned and known all over America, so that means that hearts will be crushed once Steve appears on the cover of a gossip magazine with his hand over your waist, holding you close as you two pose for the camera.

♡ㆍWhich takes us to why he made this whole plan up in the first place: he just wants to escape the madness of having people speculate about his dating life all the time and the crazy gold-digging mothers that practically throw their own daughters in his direction. Having a serious relationship keeps the craziness of being the country's most eligible bachelor, and it shuts down his parents, too.

♡ㆍHe loves to take you out dancing at those parties, even though they're very conservative when it comes to their music; it's either soft jazz music, or some old classics that no one your age has heard of before. But you make your own choreography, pretty much mocking how the other very square couples are dancing.

♡ㆍIt's literally the Laurie and Jo scene from Little Women (iykyk).

♡ㆍAnd please, he absolutely loves to get shitfaced at those parties! There are two things he really enjoys about those gatherings: the food and the neverending champagne. And he certainly savors every glass and those fancy finger foods – once, he almost took a whole tray of those.

♡ㆍTipsy-Steve is just a ray of pure sunshine, and a ball of energy. He loves to dance like nobody's watching and to talk to everyone, including those he claims to dislike. It's funny because his cheeks get so red, and even his way of talking changes a little: his voice gets squeaky, and he merges his words together because there's just so much going on through his head.

♡ㆍBut Drunk-Steve is a whole different person. He can barely keep his eyes open, and he has to spend the rest of the party sitting down somewhere because he gets too lazy… and now his words start to slow down, and he begins to feel a little more sentimental. So, as soon as the bubbly champagne takes its toll on his brain, he still can't stop talking, but most of his words are sweet compliments for you.

♡ㆍIt's like he feels a growing and unstoppable need to be a total sweetheart to you, praising you for just reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. And his clinginess just goes through the roof, wanting to be near you, even though you had just spent the last three hours together.

♡ㆍIt's in one of his drunken spurs where you get to know his actual feelings toward you, because he simply can't keep his mouth shut. He goes on extensive rants about just how great he thinks you are, and that you just might be too good for him… and Steve has such a heartbreaking puppy face, pouting as he tells you all about what goes on in his heart, that it's hard to feel anything but a sense of growing affection for him.

♡ㆍIt's funny, because one night he's pouring his heart out to you, and the next morning, he doesn't remember anything that he had said. And you don't say anything either. Maybe at the next party… or until your deal is over. There's always time, right?

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! steve masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve and eddie.

𖤐 taglist: I AM RESTARTING MY TAGLIST! if you want to be added to my taglist, just click here.

#back at my loving steve hours #this is not my best but hey i can write more about it later #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanons #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #old money!steve #old money!steve x reader #old money!steve harrington #headcanons #liv talks about stevie

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hawkinsglasscloset · 1 month

Text

Sappho Punch | Bottoms x Stranger Things AU

Chapter 1: All is Fair in Love and War

Word count: 2k

Warning: strong language, mention of SA, mention of violence and blood.

A/n: So my obsession with the movie Bottoms and my obsession with the show Stranger Things came together to create this baby. I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Comments are greatly appreciated :3

Fall came, but the weather was still pretty summer-like. There was a soft breeze and a sky sprinkled with stars, making that night the perfect night to finally talk to the girl of your dreams. The only issue was... maybe the girl of your dreams was also the girl of your best friend's dreams.

Hazel and Robin had been friends since third grade, they bonded over being tomboys and eventually their friendship grew deeper, but never into a relationship. They simply could not see each other in that way, not to mention they both were more into femmes, which led them down a long road of falling in love with straight girly girls.

They usually went for the opposite type, it definitely made things easier when it came to relationships (or the lack thereof, in their case since they were both virgins), they never fought over a girl in all their years of friendship.

Robin was more into petite redheads and blondes who could sing or play some instrument. Meanwhile, Hazel liked brunettes or girls with colorful hair, taller than her and on the chubbier side.

Unfortunately, as there's a first time for everything, this time they were both in love with the same girl. She wasn't exactly Robin's usual type, neither was she Hazel's usual type.

Men usually say bros before hoes, straight girls say chicks before dicks, what do gay girls say? Chicks before clits? Well, something of the sort was decided between the two friends. They were definitely NOT gonna fight over some girl.

And if she ever happened to show interest in any of them... the other would have to gracefully accept it and move on with no hard feelings. All is fair in love and war, but losing someone who has been in your life before you could even do long division was a price they were not willing to pay for coochie.

"If you don't say hi, I'm gonna say hi," Robin said with a nonchalant shrug.

"She's definitely straight! What are you even thinking?" Hazel cried nervously as she fidgeted with a big roll of tickets and waited for her cotton candy.

"She's British! Maybe that's how British people are... straight looking," Robin shook her friend by the shoulders.

"I don't think so, I think in Britain they're even gayer looking than usual," Hazel took the cotton candy and shoved part of it in her mouth. "Look! PJ and Josie!"

The unpopular, supposedly untalented, lesbian crew of Rockbridge Falls was almost all there after the two arrived, Sylvie was the only one missing, but... nobody really wanted Sylvie around (except for her stepdad, of course).

"What happened to your arm?" Hazel asked, seeing that Josie had a cast on.

"She ate shit," PJ laughed.

"She ate literal shit? What the fuck?" Hazel chuckled. "Did you get beat up again? Were you jumped? Was it spy camp? Did you go to juvie?"

"Yeah, we went to juvie," PJ sarcastically sneered.

"OH MY GOD, IT WAS JUVIE?" Hazel gasped just as Jeff, their golden boy from the football team was introduced in the most ridiculous fashion, making all the girls scream and beg him to fertilize their eggs.

"Why are people so obsessed with him?" Robin mumbled. "He has a round jawline... like a girl."

"I don't get why girls like boys like that. They're like dogs or pigs or... what's the grossest animal?" PJ huffed while the Viking players passed by them without caring if they bumped into someone.

"The human being, no animals are gross" a soft voice answered her question.

"Naomi!" Robin nearly screamed.

"Where?" Hazel turned and squealed when she was met with the girl she'd been dreaming of for about a year since she moved from London with her mother.

Naomi was the British straight girl in question. She was tall, taller than both Hazel and Robin (who was already quite tall), but in a delicate way. Her many curves were perfectly hugged by her bellbottom jeans and a crop top that said vegan women taste better.

She had long jet-black hair and pale skin which gave her a Snow White quality that made both Hazel and Robin lose their minds.

"Hey, mate," Naomi smiled, as her cheerleader friends, Isabel and Brittany joined her.

While PJ and Josie fumbled to talk to the other two, Hazel and Robin stared at Naomi without knowing what to say. It was like she always stole all the words from their brains.

"I see you're vegan," Robin pointed at the shirt.

"Yeah, I don't like to take part in any kind of animal exploitation," Naomi sweetly replied. "They are friends, not food."

"Did you know Hazel worked all summer on her uncle's farm? In the slaughterhouse!"

"Shut up!" Hazel hissed and then put a smile back on. "I didn't... I worked at the National Meat Association."

"That's well bad," Naomi frowned.

"I know, right? I don't even eat meat-"

"Yeah you do, your favorite food is steak," Robin said before being elbowed right in the boob by her friend.

"Meat is murder... I just needed a job," Hazel tried to save face.

"If you don't mind me asking, how much do you get paid there?" Naomi tilted her head.

"Fifteen bucks an hour, it's pretty good," it really wasn't, not for handling guts and blood for hours and coming home every day looking like the final girl from a slasher film.

"Say what, if you're interested, the golf course I work at needs new caddies, they pay twenty quid an hour plus tips. The old guys usually tip well if you laugh at their bad jokes."

"Wait, seriously? And I'd get to work with- with you?" Hazel's eyes lit up, not even caring if the old men in question happened to be pervs or not.

"Yeah, kinda. I drive around serving drinks, we'd see each other all the time."

"Yes, please! I'd love that! The job, I'd love that job!"

"I'll give you my manager's number tomorrow and you can give her a call to apply, you have the right build for it," Naomi said, eyeing the cotton candy. "Can I get a little bit?"

"O-of course! Take all of it!" Hazel handed her the remaining of her treat.

"C-could I get a job?" Robin asked timidly.

"I thought you worked at the video store, you don't like it there?" Hazel quirked an eyebrow at her friend.

Before Robin could answer, PJ and Josie stormed out, snatching the big roll of tickets from Hazel and giving it to Brittany.

"Hey, no, steady on," Naomi took the big roll of tickets back from her teammate. "These are Hazel's."

"She knows my name," Hazel whispered to herself.

"But the little Dutch boy gave it to us," Brittany protested without any heat behind her words, as usual.

"Don't be a twat, go buy your own," Naomi handed the roll back to Hazel and followed her friends to the nearest ride. "Have fun!"

"Don't you work at the video store?" Robin repeated in a mocking tone once they were alone. "Fuck you, Hazel! Eat a bag of uncircumcised veiny dicks!"

"You did way worse! You told her I eat steak!"

"You do!"

"I can stop."

"Isn't your mom throwing a barbecue tomorrow?"

"I can stop... after tomorrow. Anything for love!"

The next morning, when school finally started, Jeff showed up in crutches. He looked completely fine with the exception of a nasty black eye, which left PJ and Josie puzzled.

Yes, they had technically driven into him the night before, but the car barely touched his leg, how the hell did he get hurt like that? He refused to explain anything more than the fact that he was supposedly run over.

That's what they tried to explain to Principal Meyers, but he wasn't having it, he had to protect their perfect quarterback... to escape expulsion then, Josie made up a story.

She said they were just practicing for their self-defense club, to help the girls be prepared to face Huntington players that might want to hurt them, which had already started to happen.

"I can't believe they're letting you guys start a fight club," Hazel chuckled as she ate her lunch next to Josie and PJ on the bleachers.

"No, they're not, we are not!" Josie shook her head, too scared to even think about it.

"Of course we are! Did you see the way Brittany and Isabel were looking at us?" PJ countered.

"Wait... girls were looking at you because they thought you ran over Jeff?" Hazel asked, her interest piqued.

"Hell yeah! Nothing makes a girl wetter than displays of power and strength," PJ nodded. "If we get this fight club going, we can get whatever girl we want. We just have to learn how to fight..."

"You guys probably fought girls in juvie."

"We were lying about that, obviously!"

"About juvie? Why would you lie to me?" Hazel asked, unintentionally looking like a mistreated puppy.

"You assumed, I just didn't correct you," PJ rolled her eyes. "We just need to teach girls how to not get punched in the face, easy, and they drop their panties!"

"Hey, hey guys! Did you hear?" Robin ran towards the trio suddenly. "Huntington shot up our books so the library is out of order again this year!"

"No, actually... we're discussing creating a fight club to teach the girls self-defense," Hazel squinted, her blue eyes hurting from the sun hitting her face. "We can start with taekwondo, which I got covered."

"Wait, why are we even doing this? This sounds dumb," Robin started eating the sandwich her mother packed in a plastic grocery store bag.

"We teach a bunch of girls how to defend themselves against the evil Huntington killers. They are grateful to us, we build a community, we bond, we share, we connect," PJ explained while gesturing with her hands and her hips. "We're punching each other, adrenaline is flowing, next thing we know Brittany is kissing me on the mouth!"

"I take it back..." Robin shared a look with Hazel. "We definitely need a fight club. Hazel, bring Stella-Rebecca! She'll attract the cheerleaders."

"You know Stella-Rebecca?" Josie sat up, starting to consider the idea.

"We're family friends," Hazel shrugged.

It was true, but before even thinking of Stella-Rebecca, Hazel and Robin had bigger priorities.

"Naomi will be so impressed, she'll need to bring an extra pair of underwear to practice every week, cause she'll soak through the first!" Robin cheered quietly. She was usually shy and nervous, but they had a real shot this time, she couldn't throw it away.

"Shhh..." Hazel held a finger in front of her lips when she heard Naomi's voice coming from the principal's office.

"I'm really sorry," she said. "But he tried to grope me."

"He's a boy, Naomi! He doesn't know any better!" Principal Meyers argued. "We won't make any of this public because it would hurt Jeff's image, but you can't just punch someone for their natural instincts.

"Naomi gave Jeff the black eye!" Hazel whispered.

"Shit... it won't be as easy as we thought to impress her with our sexy fighting skills," Robin mumbled, but then she smiled. "But on the other hand, she has sexy fighting skills!"

Hazel nodded, understanding right away and as soon as the principal's office door opened, Naomi was stopped by both girls.

"Hey! Don't you think there's a lack of female solidarity at this school?" Robin asked, trying to sound casual.

"Um... what?" Naomi narrowed her eyes.

"You know, that Huntington player who fucked that girl's face up, we should do something about it," Hazel suggested, almost as if she just had that idea on the spot. "Hey, why don't you come over to our self-defense club after class?"

"Self-defense club?" Naomi breathed.

"Yeah, like a fight club! You can beat up people in the name of feminism!" Robin nodded excitedly.

"Today at 3:15," Hazel added.

"Okay, I guess it sounds nice. I'll be there," Naomi smiled as she walked away. "See you guys later!"

"May the best tomboy win?" Robin held out her hand.

"Oh, I will," Hazel teased, shaking her friend's hand.

Tag List: @mrprettywhenhecries @elliethesuperfruitlover

#bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #bottoms fanfic #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x oc #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #crossover #au #robin buckley #robin buckley x oc #oc x canon #fanfic

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bazooka-overkill · 2 months

Text

MR SANDMAN BRAINROT EUEUUUGGHHH

okay yay brainrot won the poll. also i might psot dragon chan headcanons requested by wallet becuz yaaaaaayyy

uhhh also i dont really gaf about timelines. so if something doesnt line up time wise. ignore it. shh

ermmm cw for child fighting!! mr sandman didnt have the best middle school experience

BAZOOKA'S THOUGHTS:

i need this man so badly PLS MR. SANDMAN ONE CHAAAAANCEEEE

who typed that omg…

GENERAL SANDMAN INFO (canon + headcanon)

full name: isaiah joseph banks

birthday: april 12th

age: 31

height: 6’5” (197 cm)

weight: 284 lbs (129 kg)

origin: philadelphia, PA, USA

gender: cis male

sexuality: bisexual (might be in denial lmao. men say theyre fighting demons and the demons r bisexuality LMFAO)

family:

victoria banks, mother, alive

george banks, father, alive

no siblings

HEAD CANON TIME:

- insomniac. goes between sleeping for 11 hrs during the day and not sleeping at ALL, also explains the eyebags in his TD

- incredibly horrible sleep schedule. stems from his childhood

- also stems from his childhood but not exactly the best at socializing w other people

- somehow is friends w glass joe. don't ask me how it works they just ARE (and they may be a little. fruity.)

- has one of those light up squishy things that u hit to change the color. yeah he either fucking SLAMS that thing or gently pats it when he wants to change it. it’s a bunny for anyone curious

- goes thru the 5 min nap to the 5 hour nap pipeline. “oh im just gonna take a small nap,” then wakes up w the blankets all over the fucking room, the god damn windows r open, he’s somehow upside down, etc etc

- him and the ref have beef after his TD victory animation

- was one of those kids that would be on his knees near some mulch playing w the roly polies on the playground. he'd have like 20 in his palms in 5 minutes

- if u catch him right when he wakes up (like. RIGHT right when he wakes up) he accidentally calls people “baby.” it’s a habit he picked up from his mom and he’s pushed it back into his mind, but it slips when he isn’t exactly thinking (totally not projecting my own habits onto him guys)

- adding to the above that the person who originally found this out was glass joe. take that as you will

- he sends some of his boxing money to his parents to support them (he’s a mamas boy LEAVE ME ALONEEEEE)

- doesn’t exactly search for a relationship, believes that when he decides he’s ready for one the right person will find him

- gets dragged into world circuit outings by either super macho man or aran ryan. on the rare occasion it’ll be soda. one time they all went bowling and sandman watched aran ryan throw a bowling ball like a fucking baseball and it broke the ceiling

- knows how to make a MEAN philly cheese steak. will be mentally freak out (positively) if someone mentions they’ve never had one before. if he wasn’t so stoic he would be jumping up and down and going “YAAAAAYYYYY🎉🎉🎉” becuz he finally gets an excuse to make one for someone

- has 100% almost broken the world circuit ring's ropes (see his intermission animation in contender)

- his locker in the locker rooms is either completely spotless or dented to hell and back. bonus points if theres like. a fake succulent in there or some shit

- luvs animals. takes pics of cool animals he sees anywhere

origin backstory thing under cur bc its long

origin:

isaiah joseph banks, known as his boxing alias mr. sandman, was born on april 12th to victoria banks and george banks in the Doylestown Hospital. born to loving parents, isaiah grew up as an only child.

isaiah learned to keep to himself and care for himself very early on, as both of his parents were usually at work. they worked hard to provide for isaiah and themselves, but always put their son first. they

the time they spent at work would be made up at home, albeit this time could never be fully made up for a young isaiah. he had spent more time with babysitters and nannies than his own parents. of course, isaiah knew his parents loved him, but all the bonds that were supposed to be formed hadn’t; the time frame had passed.

the time they did spend together was… memorable, really. not in a bad way, but every moment— every waking minute— made isaiah into the man he is today.

every night, when his mother was home early enough, she would sing him a soft lullaby. when she wasn’t, his mother had recorded this lullaby onto a tape for him to listen to. this lullaby was the song that made mr. sandman: Mr. Sandman by The Chordettes. it wasn’t a typical children’s lullaby by any means, but by god he loves that song— present tense intended.

then, a problem arose: school. starting middle school is one thing, but isaiah found out how cruel children could be.

isaiah was big, to put it lightly. five foot six at age 12 was enough ground for bullying, and being dropped off by a few different babysitters/nannies in the morning only added to the ammunition.

with how big he was, the bullying never went farther than verbal harassment. soft giggling every time he talked in class, glances from across the classroom, the bullying was subtle except for the occasional direct blow to isaiah.

his boxing interest began when he was thirteen, where his parents enrolled him in a self defense class that revolved around boxing and the sort. they had found out about the bullying from the babysitters, as isaiah had been reporting what they had been saying to him. there, young isaiah learned the basics of boxing: dodging, punching, and jabs had been added to his arsenal.

isaiah had always relished in the safety of knowing that he’d never get attacked at school, but unfortunately this was false.

it was brutal really; the poor boy had been caught in the bathroom and was attacked from behind, slammed his face into the sink, and assaulted from there. it took around two minutes for teachers to hear the commotion, but they were two minutes too late.

there, isaiah was brought to the hospital. no one truly knows the full extent of his injuries, minus his parents. if you look closely at mr. sandman, his top teeth are a little crooked.

nothing exactly eventful happened other than he moved schools, and everything was smooth from there.

his boxing career began to take off when he was 17, when he met an old babysitter of his— one who had taken care of him up until he was 13. he had become a boxing coach and offered to take isaiah up as a student.

if you ever ask mr. sandman in an interview about his boxing idol, he’d most likely say his coach. that man taught him nearly everything he knows, and even taught him the dreamland express move that mr. sandman is most known for, albeit modified.

mr. sandman picked up his alias when his coach told him about the WVBA and their boxers. it was almost inevitable he’d choose mr. sandman in honor of his mother.

he had his first fight at age 18, where it went swimmingly well. records of this fight have been lost to time, but, according to word of mouth, mr. sandman nearly killed the poor man.

i gotta be honest w u all idk how to continue this. umm mr sandman meets a wvba recruiter and then uh yah.😁😁😁

#punch out #punch out wii #mr sandman #mr. sandman #IM MR SANDMANS BIGGEST FAN IVE SAID IT BEFORE BUT IT STANDS #AAAAAARRAGHHH #half of this is me just projecting onto him #also can we talk abt his hairstyle in TD like. who is ur barber #bazooka-overkill #bazooka overkill #also maybe hourglass if u squint

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butch-reidentified · 1 year

Note

I notice articles of Radfems' teaming up with conservatives to curb trans activists. I thought radfems are left-leaning. Why do radfems team up with the right wingers if that's the case?

This is going to be long but contain a lot of very important information people need to understand about the radfem perspective on gender compared to both the conservative one and the genderist one.

I don't personally know any radfem who would ever do this so the simple answer is I can't tell you why someone would bc I've never even witnessed it, let alone gotten to ask their reasoning. People who call themselves gender critical and get called TERF aren't necessarily radfems. Radical feminism is by definition a left wing ideology. If you were active on radblr, you would see frequent posts calling out conservative women who try to act all buddy-buddy with radfems re: trans stuff. We on radblr do not tolerate that or their presence - at least not in the corner of radblr where I exist. I block right wing blogs on sight.

Contrary to popular trans belief, we don't agree with conservatives on trans matters either. Where conservatives want to reinforce gender, maintain the existence of gender, and are bioessentialist (a term genderists use incorrectly btw*) by nature of their predominantly Christian beliefs, radfems are gender atheists and abolitionists.

*Bioessentialism doesn't mean "vagina = woman, penis = man." It refers to the belief that women (aka female humans) are genetically/inherently nurturing, caregivers, emotional, sensitive, intuitive, quiet, physically weak, like pink and princesses and flowery dresses, etc., and that men are genetically/inherently strong, resilient, tough, outdoorsy, aggressive/violent, stoic, rational, leaders, like trucks and mud and red meat, etc.

While bioessentialism is the belief that all these stereotypes are innate, these stereotypes themselves are what make up gender. "Gender stereotypes" and "Gender roles" are redundant phrases. Gender *is* just stereotypes based on sex. Male aka "amab" people are expected to adhere to the truck-loving, tough, aggressive, stereotypes mentioned above. Those stereotypes are placed based on their physical body - the male body - not placed on them because of their INTERNAL "gender identity." For proof, look no further than the baby gifts an expecting mother receives after finding out the sex of her unborn child: they are not random, gender-neutral gifts, they're blue pajamas with dinosaurs on them because boy.

Radfems want to eliminate gender. We view sex as a neutral biological fact, like your height, foot width, or hair or eye color.

Imagine if, before a baby is born, doctors tested its future hair color, and that information was believed to determine everything about the child. Oh, it's a brunette! So it will be opinionated, love playing with building blocks, enjoy science, and its favorite color will be green! Oh, a blond? Well, better get it yellow EVERYTHING covered in butterflies, and order some craft supplies (blonds are just naturally more creative than brunettes, of course). Be prepared... blonds are soft and sensitive and moody. They're very artistic but struggle to keep up in math and science classes, and are so indecisive!

This is what gender is. A massive, all-encompassing set of traits that are assigned to one sex or the other, designed explicitly by patriarchy to maintain the oppression of the female sex. It defines everything, starting with how people treat you before you're even born, including who you will be expected to be all your life forever, up to what jobs you're likely to get and how much you'll be paid. Society has decided that which type of gametes your body is designed to produce (whether or not you successfully produce them is utterly irrelevant to what your body is DESIGNED genetically to do) determines every last thing about your life. There's a stronger argument for astrology than gender.

So conservatives want to perpetuate gender, keep males doing all those things I listed (which we call "masculinity") and females doing all those things I listed (often called "femininity"). Radfems want gender gone. We want your sex to be no more relevant to your life than your height or hair color. We believe that regardless of whether your body is structured to produce large gametes or small ones says absolutely fucking nothing about who you are, what you are capable of, your likes or dislikes, your intelligence, or anything else.

So, no. I would sooner die than team up with conservatives. We have nothing in common. You are by definition NOT radical feminist if you support gender and will team up with those who do, just to ~own the trains~. That isn't a no true Scotsman, it's just how definitions work.

I am not against trans people. I am 100% in favor of safety and protection for trans people. I simply don't view gender the same way many trans people (specifically those we call genderists or TRAs) do. I don't believe in an internal gender identity any more than I believe in an internal hair color identity. I do, however, believe in EVERY human's fundamental rights to bodily autonomy, healthcare, self-expression, non-discrimination, etc. I believe clothes and toys and hobbies and occupations and likes and dislikes and skills and weaknesses all have zero to do with your sex.

This is my struggle with gender identity ideology: nobody has been able to answer the most fundamental defining question I have about it. If, as many trans activists claim, their gender identity has nothing to do with clothing, nothing to do with haircut, nothing to do with being hairy vs shaven, nothing to do with personality traits, nothing to do with likes and dislikes, nothing to do with whether you prefer dolls or hotwheels, nothing to do with all those stereotypes I mentioned... but it's also not simply a descriptor for one's sex, what is left? What remains to give gender meaning? What is a boy/man or girl/woman? Without referencing any sex stereotypes or sexed body parts, how do you know which one you are?

If anyone could give me a genuine, logical answer to this, an explanation for gender identity that has nothing to do with sex stereotypes and makes concrete sense, on God I would become the biggest TRA on earth.

Because I don't believe that gender is anything more than sexist stereotypes, the idea of gender identity is incompatible with my values. Because I view sex as a simple biological fact which should be as neutral as hair color, I don't think it makes sense to believe one can fully and truly change sex. If you dye your hair blond, the roots will still grow in the original brown color determined by your genetics. You may be able to appear as a blond and convince some people you are naturally blond, but it doesn't *actually* change the reality.

I believe there are people with physical sex dysphoria, like myself and my best friend, for whom medical transition is in many cases beneficial (it was for me) in alleviating those odd "phantom sex characteristic," very neurological-seeming symptoms. But while having a double mastectomy did help the sensations, it didn't turn me into a male human (man), and I have certainly never wanted to be one. My best friend lives a life where everyone perceives her to be female, though she was born male, simply because the medical process she went through to alleviate those neurological sensations resulted in people perceiving her as female (passing). Her "social transition" was not intentional or gender related, just an incidental byproduct of the medical one. It was simply easier, and probably safer, to assimilate into social womanhood than to tell everyone she's actually male despite appearing female, though she still does not have a gender identity, does not wear makeup or skirts or perform femininity, and couldn't care less about pronouns - I use "she" because that's how my brain naturally perceives her. Outside of this concrete, material, neurologically plausible view of sex dysphoria (which still has nothing inherently related to *gender* about it), I don't understand what it means to be trans.

Radfems want both sexes to be utterly free to be whoever they are, without being influenced/socialized into gendered (aka sex-stereotypical) behaviors and preferences. We want males comfortable & safe wearing flowery sundresses and crying often and being homemakers if they wish, and females under zero societal pressure to shave, wear makeup, etc., and totally free to speak their minds and wear cargo shorts without so much as a sideways glance. Conservatives want males to be "masculine" and females to be "feminine," whereas we want "masculine" and "feminine" to be as absurd concepts as "blondian" and "brunettian" sound. Fundamentally, radfems & conservatives exist in opposition.

Anyone who has an issue with trans people, and for whom that issue is so important they'll team up with conservatives just to fight the trans movement, has utterly lost sight of the goal of feminism (if they were feminist to begin with), which is female liberation. Radfems believe gender abolition is a crucial step toward female liberation; working with people who want to enforce gender such as conservatives would be working against our own interests.

I've been on radblr a few years and never seen anyone team up with conservatives. Whoever you've heard about in the news, idk who they are, but I fully condemn cooperation with the right wing and assure you that is not something your standard radfem will tolerate. Much like how most trans people feel about Caitlyn Jenner.

#mine #ask #anon ask #anon #radblr #radfem #radfem safe #gender critical transsexual #gender critical #gender identity #gender ideology #radical feminism #gender abolitionist #gender abolition #trans ideology #trans identity #what is a woman #sex vs gender

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orangelemonsstuff · 2 years

Text

First Customers

Silver Bullet Au by @jackplushie (i hope im not bothering you by mentioning you haha i just wanna credit you ^^;)

Deuce and Ace x Bartender!MC/Yuu

(and a pinch of lore about Bartender!MC/Yuu because i love them lmao)

Summary: First day of work, your hope that you would get normal patrons was shattered by two junior delinquents of Heartslabyul

|•|

you flip the open sign to the glass door

this tacky place is now open finally

you don't know why Crowley had assigned you to work as a bartender on this dingy old place, his old brain just happen to pop an idea when he asked you to serve him a cool liquor, well what you just did was to add a rotting lemon and sugar to his beverage and the next thing you know he made you a bartender.

jeez that training of making drinks took a toll on you for a whole year but good thing you have memorized the basics of bartending and owning the bar

of course what Crewel thought you about chemicals that deals with cleaning blood also have a big help in other kind of stains in case some spilled liquid gets on the floor

and a 7 hour shift from 4 of afternoon to night? what a way to keep you busy in a lot of hours and distracted from doing work you are not supposed to do yet.

you can do whatever you want with the bar as Crowley said (whatever will you do with a bar? be a bartender of course)

but he had only one tiny favor to ask of you and you have promised to kept, a strict contract of condition

''never reveal or say anything about your identity, not even your real name, I had worked hard enough to hide you from everyone and completely erase your existance from the surface of society and the outside world so you could fullfill your duties for me, you should do the same by keeping this as a important note in your mind'

what a drag in the ass with the thought of accidentally slipping up something but you didn't mind it, you wouldn't mind being the normal civillian once again you are once before.

•|•

you have have been staring at the glass door for half an hour, waiting for your first ever costumers, the night is going to arrive soon and yet still no one would dare to step inside, some people notice and pass by, some take a few peek then leave and some just don't seem to even notice it

you wonder if it is it about the bar's appearance

bored enough, you walked over to the cleaning supplies closet and took out the mop and started mopping the floor till it shines

if the outside appearance isn't appealing enough for them, you hope that the inside would be decent enough to walk in, even if they only order water you would be satisfied enough with that, it'll be quite of an awkward experience if you didn't have any clientele in your first day

*Ding*

the sound of the bell finally have rang, a feeling of relief washes over you, finally some customers, that whole training a hope that these customers would be normal regula--

a hooligan looking gingerhaired boy, His eyes are bright scarlet in color, and over his left eye is a red marking shaped like a heart entered your bar. behind him was a young man with navy dark blue color, his right eye is a black marking shaped like a spade symbol.

you recognize those symbols, Heartslabyul. one of the most dangerous gangs that roams this area, famous for their leader and his obscene rules, also recognizable by the card markings on near their eyes

these guys looked like they are members of it but they don't seem like they want to cause trouble

"ah, you closin' already?"

well a delinquent patron is better than no patrons

you shake your head and you let them in by leading them to the stools near your counter, your eyes irked with the dirt of their shoes tainting your wiped clean floorboard but yet you still put away your cleaning stuff and attended the two young men

now that you think of it, they look pretty young to be drinking so then you ask about their age, the ginger guy simply scoffed and the other sweated nervously

"Well, does that even matter? come on just give us some few drinks me and Deuce will still pay you know. we aren't that much of a bad guys who picks fight with people for now reason." he had a toothy grin while saying that

the "Deuce" guy over here started nudging his elbow to the walking insultant "hey Ace, stop being rude to them umm.. we are both underage so anything with no alcohol would be fine--" he was not done speaking when Ace suddenly graspes his hand to his mouth

"Are you serious!? we're in a bar, place for adult drinks they don't have something like that, thank you for revealing our age stupid-deuce now we won't get any drink at all"

"well what do you want me to do? lie!? the leader said lying about that is against one of the rules--"

"yeah, yeah, whatever. as if you even know what number of rule is it"

they continued to whisper argue with each other infront of you as you prepared two tall glass infront of them, whisking out the juice bottle while they are still on their bantering.

they stopped bickering and turned to your and your moving hands, your skills were honed by the past year so it won't be surprising if they would find what you're doing was amazing

you serve them a mocktail, you tell them its like a cocktail but with no alcohol included and it just taste like the real thing

"Man... so it's like beer for kids? don't tell me it also tastes like soda" Ace grumbled, your eyes followed his arm that reached for the tall glass

"Ace...!!" Deuce nudged him again with his elbow and a offended look towards his comrade

"Relax I'm joking, well don't mind if i dig in!!" Ace's grinned and by then sipped on the glass with the multi colored mocktail

his eye sparkled the moment his tongue got layed upon the drink, coloring it with mixing colors of red and white

what the hell!?

this is amazing, it's better han the cherry soda he used to buy from that cheapstake vending machines he kick to get counterfelt coins even making some cans rattle out of the machine, he figured the sodas are expired yet he needs to parch the thirst sometimes

"Heh, this is pretty nice try yours Deuce trust me its bomb" Ace continued sipping on the drink while Deuce looked at his own glass hesitantly

"you're sure this doesn't have alcohol....right? my mom would be mad if i drank alcohol" You nod with Deuce's question, you giggle a with the image of a 6 year old child drinking soda for the first time and worrying about his mom finding out about it

it hit Deuce like a sugar rush, his reaction was more immediate than Ace's, the delicious drink felt like it just washed over his soring muscles after a long fight

Ace grinned at his friend "You look so dumb with that awe-strucked face" he teased while Deuce just gave him a constant ignorance

after finishing up they released a satisfied sigh, that went well and your skill paid off indeed now that old crow would stop nagging about you to keep practicing so you could hide your identity better

"hm, you don't seem to be around here are you new?" Ace had his arm on your counter giving you a off look with you bar turned to them both while washing their glasses

"so, where are you from? why would a bartender like you open a bar in this kind of zone?" you turn to them with the same straightface you had when they came in

"Ace is right, this place isn't something shops, cafes or even bars mostly open at, do you have any purpose here?"

ah... these fools are trying to lure you out, how curious they are truly. you don't seem to have any more customers coming to the bar so why not entertain them a bit?

You shake your head refusing to speak about the matter, distracting them with the shaking of your cobbler shaker making another drink for the two

"this one's on the house since it's the first day of opening my bar" you smile as you give them a free drink

plus, you bet you could make them spill out information about the existing clans and gangs around the seven sages city

"what!? you didn't know who the great seven are!?" Ace yelled from shock slamming both of his palm on the counter. of course you do, you just need to pretend you don't to hide yourself properly.

"I'm surprised... they technically rule this area so i wonder why you haven't heard of them" Deuce profusely looked at you,

"oh, you must be the newcomer on the town no wonder you haven't heard of them, well let us tell you what--" Ace stood up from his seat oh here it comes, the confirmation you needed coming from his own mouth

"We work for the Heartslabyul, one of the great seven gangs who was ruled by the Queen of Hearts!" Ace proudly announce as you look at him with calculating eyes, so your suspicions are true these two came from that obscure rules gang

"Ace Trappola of Heartslabyul pleasure to meet ya dear bartender~" He turned to Deuce with flashy smile

"Oh uh, Deuce Spade of Hearstlabyul pleasure to make your acquaintances." Deuce spoke nervously to you but still beaming out a bright smile

Ace looked around and observed the place, your eyes followed the movement of his head "you know... this place is a bit dingy but it's pretty nice and the drink is totes good!! it's worth it for the price" Ace laughed then continuing to drink the free mocktail you gave earlier

"and you, you're not half bad yourself, you're pretty worth the visit" Ace licked his the remaining liquid on his lips and giving you a flirtatious smirk plastered on his mouth

Deuce didn't heard what Ace whispered with the glugging of his own drink but you did, you decided to ignore it, you're pretty sure this flirting thing will happen mostly since you're a bartender and some patrons are just down bad for the servers

"haah that was a satisfying drink, thank you dear bartender" Deuce polished off the glass clean with his lips and let out a satisfied hum

after a few minutes of relaxation from the both and the running water on the sink with your washing they've finally agreed to leave, they left the exact money from the costing tab on the counter, and oh a little tip (20 madols)

Ace walked out of the door making the bells jingle first and Deuce following him but Deuce stopped on his steps and turned to you

"i look forward in seeing you tomorrow, I'll definitely come back" Deuce mumbled as he followed Ace outside.

those two are entertaining enough for you, today and only today you would them as a lucky charm but maybe this two delinquents are the sign you won't have normal customers at all

you sigh in tiredness

when will you have the normal days again you used to have again? ah yes never.

a/n: done with another silver bullet au fic HAHA!! but anyways i wrote this because i actually have another fic coming up and its based on this!!

btw I'm kind of uncomfortable aging up characters like Ace and Deuce so they would be legal with drinking so i just changed the cocktails to mocktails!! google says its just like cocktail itself but it contains no alcohol so i think it'll be okay with them. okay thats all bye!!!

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanfic #twst x reader #twst crowley #twst ace #twst deuce #silver bullet au #ace x reader #deuce x reader #twst ace x reader #twst deuce x reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #gender neutral reader #twst ace trappola #twst deuce spade #twst ace trappola x reader #twst deuce spade x reader

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lovelyherruins · 2 days

Text

omg sometimes I forget team black ARE real people and not just mindless bots.

half the issues in hotd didnt even involve alicent, if anything they already existed before she entered the picture. antis says she should've minded her own business but then not mention Harwin, Larys, and Joffrey.

If Harwin just kept it in his pants instead of becoming the crown princess' side hoe (because that's what he is) then the whole Strong boys and arguements wouldn't have happened.

Do I have to explain Larys??

I brought Joffrey up for one reason and it's this:

it wasn't necessary but did it cause the riot that happened? no, you know what did tho? Joffrey openly talking about his and Criston's "relationships" with the people getting married. was that necessary for him to do? no it wasn't because it what world WOULD it be needed for some guy to talk to Kingsguard's secret relationship with the princess?

Those three MEN should've minded their business not alicent. when she asked Rhaenyra questions it was her job or her being a friend which leads me to :

perhaps alicent wasn't but the same thing could be said about Rhaenyra (lying on her mother's grave anyone?? just being over all Brat when Alicent TRIED to fix them??). the thing is they were both in bad situations in which they had little to no control in. Neither can be blamed for how they tried to help themselves or how they acted under pressure as KIDS. people seem to forget that alicent was also a child and always say "she was older in the books!" tell me when you ever picked up that book. the show is clearly different to the books why keep bringing up alicent's age? to justify hating her as a child.

HER PROBLEMS WAS CAUSED BY THE MEN IN HER LIFE!!!!

who forced her to go to the king's chambers and wear her mother's dress? Her dad. Who had the power to NOT marry her but did it anyway? Viserys. Who mistook her (understandable) missing of her father as a reason to kill his father and brother? fucking Larys. Who impregnated her and when she had sons, did nothing to support her or to fix the problems arising with the birth of male heirs? Viserys.

"they were friends not lovers"

friends not lovers, guys!!

friends not lovers.

of course it's never openly stated that they were in love but considering that the actors (who know the characters best) said there was an underlying romance between them and it was purposeful... you can't blame others for shipping them because as they said it was THERE.

while it was a big jump that alicent took with his words, I prefer to see what she did as less of a cunning act and more of an act of desperation. a way to avoid the incoming fighting that'll happen when the word gets out.

I'm not sure if the commenter is blaming the dance on alicent but can we for a second remember that alicent was going against her dad to bring back aegon? the council already had plans to sit aegon at the throne, alicent's misunderstandings did nothing to change that.

if rhaenyra ascending the throne wouldn't have cause a civil war, then Jace ascending it definitely would have because let's not forget being anti-bastard was not a thing Alicent created, everyone was against them.

Team black stans will call themselves feminists and say they support women's rights but when Alicent is shown to them, they scream internalized misogyny and call her a cunt. are you a feminist or do you just like seeing women agree with you and your views? to fit into the mold you made for feminism

alicent is a great example of the oppression of women in any time period and the greatest show of WHY women need feminism, and antis don't even give her grace

they uplift and praise the women who already have power and freedom and put down everyone else who doesn't have those things. that tells me more about their character and beliefs than whatever color they identify as.

#house of the dragon #alicent hightower #anti team black stans #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenicent #i cant believe im making apost before the 2nd season even starts

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justonemoregayboy · 2 years

Text

Creating a harem with the straight men of Beacon Hills chapter One

pairing: Liam Dunbar x male! oc. SMUT HAHA

Clarifications: this fanfic of my man oc is not from male reader, my oc is an Incubus, I have the idea that the Incubus possess magic so there will be magic in this fanfic, this story is obscene so read at your own risk, all the men of teen wolf will have their sexual moment, this is the first part so expect many more.

word count: 4380

requests are open🖤

English is not my first language sorry if there are spelling mistakes enjoy reading

Monday in the morning. The beginning of the long course of the week. For most of the young people it meant the beginning of a long week full of classes, homework and school responsibility. But it wasn't the same for Austin, his situation was different from most.

After leaving Beacon Hills for more than a year (to learn to control and use his new powers at all) he urgently needed to be back here in the town that saw him grow up surrounded by his pack, of course he knew that members of the pack The community of the town were supernatural beings, quite the opposite of them not knowing that he is an incubus and would prefer that he continue like this for a longer time.

Breaking out of his thoughts he saw in the distance the pair of boys he was looking for not far from where he was. They were walking up the stairs so he quickened his pace to reach them, apparently both boys were too focused on their own conversation that they didn't notice the boy behind them.

´´And we hugged the rest of the night´´ mentioned the pale boy as he nervously played with his hands.

´´That sounds good´´ answered the Latin boy, both boys would have continued with their conversation if it were not for the fact that their vision was interrupted by a pair of hands that were positioned over their eyes.

At that moment a third voice was introduced into the conversation ´´Hey guys it's been a while´´ the words were purred in the ears of both in a playful way causing them both to give a little cry and jump at the same time due to the recent unexpected stimulus.

They both turned towards the owner of the voice expecting to see a man's face, on the contrary their range of vision gave direct to the largest pair of pectorals they had ever seen inside a person's black shirt so they had to raise their gazes to meet the boy's face. At first glance it was the face of a young white-skinned man with dark eyes and hair of the same color. The two stood paralyzed looking questioningly at the subject for almost a minute analyzing almost everything, the eyes of the pair of friends crossed and their expressions showed confusion wondering who this guy was and why he had scared them like this out of the blue.

´´Mmm ok are you going to say something or are you just going to look at me as if I were a complete stranger´´ Austin looked at both of them expecting a positive response from him, instead his faces looked more confused than before. ´´Wait, do you really not recognize me? Come on guys I was only gone for a year, there's no way they forgot about my existence so quickly.

Both heads began to roll their screws at almost the same time as mentioned above. ´´Wait a minute, Scott don´t tell me that he is DON´T-TELL ME THAT YOU ARE!!´´ exclaimed the pale boy almost shouting as he turned his head to see between Scott and the almost two meter tall boy who they had in front of them. For his part, Scott proceeded to use his enhanced werewolf sense of smell to confirm his suspicions, at that very moment the characteristic scent of his old friend entered through his nostrils, clearing any doubt about the boy's identity. Present.

"A-Austin?" asked the young alpha coming out of his recent astonishment. Austin responded to the question with an effusive nod to the boys, earning a strong and charged hug from Scott and a more surprised look from Stiles, the boy's mouth seemed to get bigger with each passing second that seemed funny to Austin at the moment . ´´Old good heavens you look so different, the last time we saw you you were a little shorter than us but look at you now you are as tall or even a little more than Derek himself´´. Every word that came out of Scott's mouth sounded full of wonder and longing as he continued to hug his friend.

For his part, Stiles was still trying to process what was happening, he didn't understand how a short, skinny boy who didn't seem capable of carrying his own weight now looked like a giant reinforced wall made of pure muscle. He was snapped out of his amazement when he was pulled into a hug with the rest of his friends.

----------------------------------➸-----------------------------------------

Austin had chatted with his two friends for a moment as they walked to his classroom, during the walk he was bombarded by hundreds of questions from both of them, most if not all of them focused on the drastic change in his appearance to what he he could only answer that it was because he had undergone a demanding exercise program and also part of puberty, clearly he couldn't tell them that it was because his Incubus nature had come to light in that period of time resulting in that surprising change, they were informed of everything that had happened in their absence from the bad news of Allison's death to the fact that Derek Hale was currently the same age as them, that was surprising.

To Austin's discontent, he was not allowed to continue his conversation with the boys because they did not share the first class together that day and he had realized it just when they arrived at the classroom, so he had to leave leaving the boys in the class history having the one to go to math class.

Crossing the corridors he noticed that he was not the only one who was arriving to class, in the direction he was going one of the sexiest boys he had seen so far appeared at his sight, the closer he got he noticed that the boy seemed lost, maybe he could do his good deed for the day by helping him with the problem that he was sure was just for that and not because his incubus side was demanding that he feed on the boy's sexual energy.

´´Hello, excuse me, do you have a problem?´´. He said as he shook his hand in front of the boy he was holding and looked with a confused expression at what looked like his class schedule, at that moment he was looked at by the most beautiful pair of blue eyes he had ever seen as well as he could feel his hole He began to self-lubricate eager for sexual action, he pushed those thoughts away for the time being the boy looked too innocent to try to get that from him. "My names Austin and I'm sorry but I couldn't help but notice you look a little lost." If he was only going to help him as a good person, although it was getting more and more difficult having the blonde so close, it was easier to fall into temptation since his masculine scent was within his reach, which gave off both the parts of his body in sight and the ones that weren't visible, the defined shape of his biceps that showed that the boy took care of his physique, the broad shoulders covered by that simple shirt that could be torn off without much effort, his marked Adam's apple that if you looked further down you could see the start of his collarbone that looked delicious to look at, he couldn't forget about the jackpot either… even though the boy was a bit shorter than Scott compared to his height the difference was quite a bit even so he could notice the indisputable bulge on the Between the boy's legs, it was clear that his cock was not erect at that moment, but for the eyes of an incubus, clothes were not an impediment to seeing humans as they were with or without clothes, and the blond boy had a good look stay even if he was in a resting state.

The boy looked up from the timetable, startled and a little amazed at the stature of the man addressing him. ''H-hello I'm Liam, eh yes, it's a shame that it's so obvious''. Austin found Liam's nervousness adorable, because of this he started planning how to get rid of that confused smirk on his mouth by looking for a flirtatious one instead, but the big blue eyes could stay.

He got as close as he could to him placing his hands as close to his as he checked Liam's schedule, as soon as he located what he was looking for he got to work. ´´Don't worry Liam, when I was also new to these corridors it was confusing at first but you'll see how you get used to it in a short time, but I can help you for now, I'll tell you the easiest way to get to your class´´. He took advantage of the situation to place one of his hands on Liam's shoulder while he explained the way, at the same time his powers began to work the moment he touched the boy, his hands began to send waves that were undetectable to anyone but his kind as he continued to give directions, he could feel Liam's body heat increasing, especially between his legs. ´´´Woah Liam are you ok? Your face is a bit red. The fact of being next to the boy in this state that he is in made him feel full in more ways than one.

´´Ha and-I don't know, I feel a little strange´´. Liam felt that his body was boiling in a good way but he could feel it more in his cock that was starting to wake up, for some reason his most basic reproductive instinct was starting to activate causing his brain to look for the closest female to leave his offspring causing her eyes to focus on Austin. He knew that the other was a man not a woman as his brain associated and apart from that his common sense told him that he shouldn't feel so turned on by being so close to the other boy since Liam is Straight he had never felt love attraction for a guy. man and much less in a sexual way, but his reasoning was losing the battle against his sexual desire, he was beginning to imagine how Austin's big bulging chest would feel, how those pretty lips would feel and most importantly how tight that ass would be taller guy's fat if it was around his fat milky cock.

The next thing that happened was confusing for Liam from one moment to another step from receiving instructions from Austin to lifting the other's shirt and sticking his mouth to his nipple while with his other hand he played with the right nipple of that big tit that he could easily surpass in size if compared to any of the girls he had been with before.

´´Mmm wow cute puppy you´re just a hungry baby´´. Austin moaned in pleasure as he felt the shorter man's mammary actions on his breasts, he was filling himself with too much pleasure even though they were still in the foreplay but the fact that he was seducing a straight man made the satisfaction level rise to a notch higher level. It took all of her willpower to stop Liam temporarily, not that the idea of her ass being stuffed by this man in the hallway at school wasn't tempting but she didn't feel like having to explain herself right now. in case someone discovered them acting like a pair of animals in the act of reproduction. ´´Wait Liam´´ Liam's sad and confused look at being interrupted from this pleasure almost took away his sexual appetite because of how cute the boy looked… but only almost. "Let's continue this in a more private place daddy." Thanks to that last word Liam got a great boost sucking with all his strength the nipple he had in his mouth proceeding to pull it with his lips as hard as possible and then let it go causing the sound of plop and a groan from Austin.

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Liam was leaning against the wall inside the janitor's room while words like ´´fuck´´ ´´shit´´ ´´more´´ ´´please´´ came out of her mouth. For his part, Austin had his face glued to the large bulge that had formed in Liam's jeans, the Incubus was sniffing and licking the visible outline of the big fat cock of the male that he had at his desire, when he decided that enough of punishing Liam was enough. He reached out to unzip those damn pants that kept him from his prize but when his fingers reached the zipper he stopped and looked at Liam. ´´Tell me what you want Liam´´. Those words seemed enough for Liam to conflict on the one hand he felt his fat cock so swollen and in need of love it required all the attention in the world but a small part of him knew this wasn't normal he was still straight it wasn't right that he was acting like a schoolgirl giving her virginity to the popular boy in school let alone this boy who was almost twice his size who seemed so willing to help him release all the pressure from his hot heavy cock.

Seeing no other option she swallowed his pride. ´´I-I need you to please suck my heavy cock Austin I need it so much, more than anything in my whole life´´. Liam said feeling the weight leave his shoulders and he was able to breathe better but he felt a sudden attack of shame wanting to cover his face for the vomit of sincerity he just released but leaving it just as an idea since Austin had ordered him to lean on the wall and stay still, he felt that he should obey the orders that came out of the mouth of this boy he had met less than an hour ago, a boy who was about to take all his cock who was looking at him with that pair of eyes that they made him feel safe, that pair of eyes that for a millisecond he could swear had glowed a vivid pink replacing the black but the change was so brief that his mind instantly dismissed it as a hallucination of the heat of the moment he was going through .

Austin without further ado proceeded to remove Liam's pants along with his underwear as fast as he could, at that moment a fat cock from the force exerted emerged bouncing in front of Austin's surprised face, seeing it through the clothes was one thing but having it face to face with nothing to work as a barrier was another story, right now I could appreciate it in detail, noticing everything about it, the main thing was the shape and size from the trunk to the tip, it seemed that that cock had been made by hand starting with the base that is covered by a thick layer of pubic hair of a slightly darker blonde color than the hair on the head of its owner, the beginning of that cock was normal but it was getting thicker as it followed the route of the middle of the trunk to the big dark red head that was glistening from the pre-seminal fluid that was starting to seep out of its opening, that big fat uncut cock that was a different tan color. Leaving in an attractive way in view of the rest of its owner's complexion, in addition to having a large path of highlighted veins that demonstrated its power, apart from the fact that it was an indomitable 12-inch beast that had a pair of balls that were almost the size of Austin's hand… right now he thanked any higher being that he was an Incubus capable of withstanding this delicious challenge instead of a mortal who would no doubt have to sell his soul in order to handle half of this monster.

He was sure of one thing he was going to give Liam Dunbar the best sex of his young life.

"Oh, you are so big!" Austin said, watching with delight as he stroked Liam's cock in his hand and felt it shake all hot and sweaty and hard. For his part Liam was a mess of moans and occasional tremors due to stimulation. The boy was freaking out, he was in a situation that he never expected in his life, a man is jerking off his cock and he was getting the most sexual pleasure he had experienced to this day.

The Incubus took the head of his cock between his lips and began to suck. Austin had prepared a lot for this moment. Ultimately, all the training he had during that long year of his departure would be worthless if he couldn't show her a good time and give he pleasure like he had never felt before from her first straight man, and Austin wouldn't let that happen. . Now he had this sexy boy's cock in his mouth and it was time for him to show her that there was no woman in comparison who could take better care of her than he could.

Austin licked and sucked on the tip for a while before sliding his lips lower and beginning to suck, and once he started sucking on it he didn't back down he wanted him to see how eager he was to suck his cock, and in he opinion the best way to show he happiness at being on her knees in front of him was for he to fully commit. He didn't just shake his head at him; he threw himself to the ground and leaned back so hard that he risked aching his neck with the aggressiveness with which he shook his head. However, Austin knew it would be a temporary pain since one of the benefits of being a sex demon was quick recovery from any exertion.

His sloppy blowjob was leaving the poor boy wanting more. The relentless lowering of his head that saw him take it almost to the bottom of his throat each time made Austin's handsome face drip with his own saliva, and he didn't care one bit. He thrust past any gag reflex any human could possibly possess but that was no problem for him as far as he knew if he put his mind to it he could take up to five cocks in his mouth at once if that was the case. His pleasure was all that mattered, and he only had to look at him to realize that Liam was already his property. He still looked shocked, but now it was for a very different reason.

However, he still wouldn't be satisfied. He was going to exploit every advantage he had to satisfy Liam, and one area he was sure he beat Liam's exes and just about any woman around was the size of his boobs. He took his mouth off his cock for a moment so he could pull her shirt over his head in less than six seconds. Liam's eyes immediately fell on the large breasts he had previously tasted and squeezed with an irresistible need to hold back, and Austin smiled. He was used (since his sudden physical change) to men (and some women) ogling at his chest, but he almost felt as if he had been given such a large pair of breasts specifically to please to any straight man. Certainly Liam seemed to enjoy looking at them enough.

He continued to watch as he bounced his breasts playfully up and down as both boobs were making the boy drool, but he didn't give her much time to gawk at his bare breasts. His breasts weren't just for show, and he'd taken them out for a reason. If Liam had been impressed with his blowjob, he was going to be absolutely amazed at what came next.

He pushed his massive breasts together around his giant cock, trapping it between his tits before beginning to slide them up and down and give him a proper handjob. There was already plenty of lubrication provided by the messy blowjob he'd been giving her, so he had no trouble building a good rhythm that had him moaning quickly. He didn't say it, but he was thinking to himself that this was an act some previous girlfriend of Liam's couldn't perform for him. No one wouldn't be able to do it like that anyway. Very few women could compete with the size of Austin's breasts, be it from the best porn actress of the moment or just in general, and he was exploiting that fact.

Liam moaned deeply in appreciation of his titjob, and Austin had a feeling he wouldn't need to hold on much longer for him to come. The thought of him shooting he cum onto he breasts was incredibly arousing for him, and it was something he wanted very much.

Austin has to stop himself from laughing at the wide-eyed look of surprise on his face as he speeds up the handjob with his massive tits, giving him pleasures he thought weren't there before as he leans back and moans. So soft…so warm…and so wet, thanks to how much he drooled and spit all over his chest. And he continues to do so, his tongue sticking out and providing a steady stream of saliva to lubricate his tits as he begins to move them up and down.

He was doing a very good job, Liam's head fell back and moans came freely from his lips as Austin continued to use his huge breasts to masturbate him. Even though he wasn't looking at him at the moment, Austin made sure to keep his tongue off of him, not because of the saliva, his breasts were already quite wet. No, he was doing it because when he made his Liam come, he wanted to give her a nice target to blast with the load bubbling out of his balls. The fact that he wanted to taste it as much as he could was a given at this point.

An evil idea occurred to him at that moment. One almost as delicious as the presaminal liquid he had been lucky enough to taste before.

“Are you going to cum daddy? Are you going to cum on my slutty face and my tits? Paint your little white slut with your big fat load- AH!

Austin was interrupted when Liam suddenly came, the first stream of cum exploding from the tip of him and hitting him right in the eye. He closes it immediately, just in time for more to fall on the lid, sealing it with hot cum.

The first impulse was far from the last. Austin doing his best to make him come as hard and as hard as he could. Ignoring the burning in his arms as he continued to move her heavy breasts up and down. Ignoring his own desire to swallow the cum that lands in his mouth, in favor of keeping he mouth open and waiting, making sure to keep his face as attractive a target for his facial as he can.

Thread after thread very hot lands on his features. His mouth, cheeks, nose, eyes and even his hair were covered in cum, making it impossible for Austin to open his eyes, his face almost unrecognizable under the mask of cum. Thick drops fell from his face onto the tops of his tits, adding to the wetness that already coated them.

Liam limply begins to slide down the wall until he drops to the ground, gasping for breath as his mind tries to catch up with everything that had happened. One second he's looking for the right way to his classroom, the next a strange man is sucking he dick like his life depended on it.

And now his face was unrecognizable beneath the mess he had…burst upon him.

He could feel his softening cock contracting as he looked at his cum-covered features, his swollen, freshly-fucked lips. All topped off by the enthusiastic smile all over he face, making no move to wipe it off, as he remains on he knees, giving him a good look at the mess he had made of him. And making sure he saw how much Austin loved what he had done to him.

Liam was silent, stunned silent, while Austin rose all the semen he had on him began to go as if it had a life of its own towards the interior of the boy's mouth, when there was no more trace of semen in Austin he began to get his shirt. This barely seemed to be able to contain the boy's breasts that seemed to have increased a little more in size highlighting the nipples through the shirt.

“We'll see each other again soon darling, when I'm hungry again. At any moment…” Using his fingers to cup Liam's chin bringing his lips to the boy's still on the ground, it started as a slow kiss to turn into a heated battle of tongues each seeking to dominate the other by doing in the process of Liam tasting the remains of his cum from Austin's mouth. After a few minutes the incubus separated from Liam leaving the boy wanting more. ´´Don't be greedy puppy we will have more fun later, now you better go to class and put on your pants I don't want anyone else to see what belongs to me´´. The incubus placed a quick kiss on the tip of Liam's tired cock causing a groan from him, before greeting him with his fingers and a mischievous smile on his lips.

He walks back out of the janitor's closet, a bit of his own natural lube running down his thighs and sweat on his face, the happiest person in school.

After watching Austin leave, there was only one thing Liam knew. He was definitely going to need to have sex with Austin again.

Jeez… "Ah…fuck…yeah…just like that…that was just…wow…"

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spiderleaks · 2 years

Text

For Special Occasions

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: a little bit of fluff, angst, some religious mentioning, she/her pronouns in reference to the reader, minor season 2 spoilers, no use of y/n

Word Count: 968

A/N: This is for @mattmurdocksscars 1.5k writing challenge!! I hope you enjoy it because this was a lot of fun to write! The prompt that I chose will be in bold. Also if you like listening to music while reading I suggest you listen to New Home (Slowed) by Austin Farwell.

If you enjoyed reading please be sure to reblog!

He never saw this day coming, granted Matt couldn’t see shit but he couldn’t wait to be by your side. His suit was cleaned just for this.

He carefully felt for the suit on the rack with the different colored suits matched in a line, the braille on the card describing what he grabbed so attentively.

Silk black, for special occasions only ;)

He noticed the winky face you put at the end of his note and a small chuckle escaped. Of course, you put that for your favorite suit of his, “It makes your ass look so perfect, Matt,” your voice echoed in his mind, “it should be illegal to let anyone else see that but me.”

He silently brushed away the stray tear that threatened to start falling from his face. Not yet, he told himself. Matt put the suit on knowing that the minute he leaves this apartment, it will be official, and something in him wasn’t ready.

He wasn’t ready to admit that there had been a change. To many people, there won’t be, hell even Foggy won’t know.

It was time and Matt said his prayers before he left. He prayed to God that he had the strength to make it through the service without a single tear, that he can be strong for you. He quickly grabbed his red glasses, the pair that you gave him for one of his birthdays.

“I can see your eyes just a little more clearly with these. I know you wear your current pair to hide away, but I want to see your eyes, I just want to see you.”

He grabbed his cane, unfolded it, and like the good Catholic boy that he is, he put on his glasses and walked to where you waited for him.

The walk in New York City was different this time, snow was gently falling and people seemed to be in a civil mood for once. The weather muted Matt’s senses, yet he could tell that the young boy that quickly crossed in front of Matt was excited to see Santa that night, setting up a whole plan to have his phone hidden in his teddy bear recording the entire night.

Matt couldn’t help the smile that found its way to his face, he wondered if you wanted kids or maybe just a pet would better fit both your styles. He was too busy being Daredevil and Matt Murdock the shit attorney that fucked up Frank Castle's case, and you?

You had your job which was going well. Matt couldn’t be more proud of you for putting the work in and finally getting the appreciation you deserved.

His mind had wandered for too long.

He didn’t realize he was where he needed to be.

Shit.

Father Lantom looked up to see the man’s stone face. The snow was falling harder now, but it wasn’t too hard, the service can still happen.

“Matthew,” He nodded and stepped forward, “Are you ready?”

A weighted silence falls between the two men. Matt barely moves his head, ready to begin. The service couldn’t have run more smoothly and from what Father Lantom described to Matt you were beautiful. The dress was a brilliant white shade with an added shawl over your arms. The makeup was quite simple and yet your beauty shined through. Matt was just barely able to pick up the perfume that you were still wearing.

The service ends and Lantom asks Matt if he has any words he would like to share before they depart. Lantom waits, he knows how Matt feels he just wants the boy to admit it.

“I shouldn’t have left.” Silence once again falls after Matt’s admission. Lantom’s lips form a tense line as he steps closer in an attempt to be supportive.

“I shouldn’t have left.” While stepping away, he says firmer this time, “I thought if I went to call Claire, maybe she would answer and help or-” Matt takes a deep breath to gather his thoughts, his facade slowly breaking apart.

His tongue quickly darts out of his mouth out of habit to recenter himself. Feel the cold. Smell the trees by Morningside Park. Taste the hint of salt from his tears. He shudders out a sigh.

“Every single time something good enters my life, the Devil takes it away from me, without remorse or regret. I wasn’t-” He looks up trying to hold himself together, breathing harder, “I wasn’t enough to save her.”

“Matthew, what you do out there helps people. You saved dozens of people that night-”

“But not hers.” He gripped his cane with a strong intensity, trying anything to avoid the feeling of grief again.

“You can’t blame yourself for this happening,”

“She died in my arms Father,”

A bell tolls behind them as Lantom straightens his stance, finally moving next to Matt. “She trusted you. She understood that you did all you could have done at that moment. She loves you Matthew, and that kind of love doesn’t just go away.”

He glanced over at Matt who stilled. Father Lantom reached out and patted Matt on his back.

“Believe in whatever afterlife you’d like but she’ll show you the ways she loves you in different ways now. Just because she is physically gone does not mean she is gone forever.” Lantom nodded his head, silently telling Matt that he was finished.

“If you need to talk, you know where to find me,” He did a small wave goodbye while walking back into the cathedral.

Matt stood in front of your grave, his head swimming.

He couldn’t protect you from his city. He wasn’t strong enough, God he just wasn’t fucking strong enough.

And now you are gone because of him. Nothing more than a memory.

#amandas1500 #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x you #daredevil #marvel #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock one shot #i shouldn't have left

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ahmanjiro · 2 years

Text

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔 | 𝐡. 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

You and Haruchiyo made promises that day. Not even death could separate the two of you.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Mention of D*ath, +18 (nsfw)

Warnings: Bl**d, drugs, smut, self harm, k*lling.

Fem!Reader

1317 words.

Chapter Song: P!atd - I Write Sins Not Tragedies

CHAPTER 1

"Oh, how cool!" little girl said, showing the manga in her hand. Y/N quickly grabbed manga from her hand and was dazzled as she saw the drawings on the page.

"Wow! How strong they are. I want to beat men like that too!" she said excitedly.

You nodded in disapproval. "Senju, you can't beat people out of the blue."

"Why? I'm so strong!"

"It's ridiculous to even ask why. It's a crime to hurt people out of the blue."

"If they mess with me, I'll punch them. I won't let them mess with you either Y/N. You're my friend!"

You smiled at your friend, even though you was angry at her ridiculous thoughts right now. "I'll protect you too, Senju. You're my best friend too!"

In return, she laughed too. "Of course it is. By the way, we need to borrow this manga from Mikey. I really like it."

"Hmm." You said thoughtfully. "I don't know if Manjiro will let us. But we're friends after all."

"At the end of the day, it's a stupid manga. It's not worth much." Said Senju and used his hand as a fan when her face felt hot. But what came to her mind made her face turn red with guilt.

"Is it hot, Senju?" you asked.

Senju felt herself tense, "I don't know, I think weather it's so hot." She said and tried to hide her blushing face.

Y/N said, "Did you do something?" Senju averted her eyes from you.

"No-"

"You sure did something, Senju. You can tell me, I won't tell anyone."

Senju looked at her friend. The honesty in her eyes encouraged her, but she couldn't be sure. What if Y/N got mad at her for doing this to?

"No big deal-"

"Senju, it's important now that you're so tense."

"Promise you won't tell anyone Y/N." She approached you. "It will stay between us."

You nodded. "I promise."

She didn't know how to say it. The words mingled in her mind as she tried to regulate her breathing. She didn't want her friend to blame her.

What would have happened if she hadn't said it anyway?

After all, how big can an ordinary lie get?

She had just opened her mouth to tell a different lie when the shouts distracted both of them and you two ran outside.

"Hey! Cut it out!" yelled Keisuke.

Senju immediately opened the sliding door and what she saw made both of you freeze.

Haruchiyo on his knees on the floor with his mouth torn and his face bloodied.

Keisuke was pushed to the ground.

And Mikey, standing in front of Haruchiyo, his hand covered in blood.

Y/N said, "Haru?" in shocked. While you was trying to walk towards the boy on the wooden floor, your friend grabbed you by the arm.

Haruchiyo was like this because of her. At least she should have protected her friend.

Senju gripped your arm tighter so you wouldn't go.

The dazed Manjiro didn't look at either of them, but only focused on Sanzu on the ground.

"Smile, Haruchiyo." He said in a menacing and frightening voice. Even though Mikey's just a kid, Senju and Y/N couldn't help but shiver.

Sanzu, who was covered in blood, could not laugh. He couldn't laugh because of the pain, the fear, or the damn confusion he felt.

"Mikey, please don't." Y/N said shakily. The blood frightened all three of them. But what scared the four of them the most was their friend Mikey.

"Smile." said Mikey again. The pupils of the eyes, which had lost their meaning, seemed to have lost their color.

Haruchiyo raised his hands from where he had collapsed. He tried to smile shakily as he put his knees in his hands.

When he finally stood up properly, he had a smile on his face. But it was not a smile devoid of happiness.

Mikey just stared at him for a few more seconds, then picking up her broken plane on the ground vanished without looking at all three of them.

Y/N, "Haru!" she said, breaking free of Senju's grasp and running towards her friend. All three of them were still frightened as Keisuke, Senju, and Y/N looked at the still laughing boy in shock.

"I'll get napkins and water!" Said Keisuke as he hurried inside.

Senju said "I'll bring towel, too." in a low voice when she dont look at his brother. He couldn't look at his bloody face as guilt was eating him away.

On the way to the bathroom, she imagined Mikey making her mouth bleed that way, too.

"W-why did he do it? How c-could he do something like that?" Y/N said while looking at the still smiling Sanzu.

"You don't have to laugh, Haru. Mikey's gone, you don't have to laugh." Despite what you said, the boy was still laughing.

You pulled out the blue handkerchief your mother had given you from your pocket and awkwardly tried to wipe the blood off the child's hands.

It still didn't make sense. Whether you were 12, 20 or 40 years old, for some reason you would never have thought of doing this.

Especially to Haruchiyo.

"Don't laugh, Haru. You'll be hurt more if you do that." You said and threw the bloody handkerchief on the ground.

"After I clean you up, we can go to the doctor-"

"I don't want." Said the boy, and a groan came out of his mouth. He didn't realize that he had stopped smiling.

"Well." You cupped his cheeks lightly with both hands.

"Don't say a word to Mikey." said Sanzu, remembering that you had told him to stop.

"Why?"

"He can make your mouth too like that-"

"No he can't, nobody deserves something like that. I'll tell Mikey that too. How dare he do something like that to your friend-"

"Y/N. I'm laughing. It doesn't hurt."

"Don't lie, Haru. Don't lie to me. How can someone not get hurt in this situation?" You did, but you couldn't articulate what Mikey did.

Mikey and Haruchiyo were friends. Which friend would do this to another, without pity.

"Still, let's clean your face, Haruchiyo." You actually smiled the opposite of the smile the boy had just made at Mikey's word.

Haruchiyo gave you a tearful smile in response. He couldn't really smile like you, but they both seemed to know that it was more realistic than before.

"I won't let anyone do anything to you again, Haruchiyo." You said seriously.

"I promise you. I give Y/N and Haru's promise. No one will touch you." You said and placed a sincere kiss on the boy's bloody lips without feeling disgust.

You didn't care if his own lips were also covered in blood.

"M-me too." said Haruchiyo, looking at your blood-stained lips.

While his own blood was on your lips, a few drops of tears rolled down his cheeks.

"How so?"

"I'll protect you too. No one will touch you." When he said that, Y/N smiled again and Haruchiyo came closer to you and gave you a kiss on the lips with his own trembling lips.

"Then that was also a promise." You said and hugged him, ignoring the blood on him.

"I won't let you be alone." He said and wrapped his arms around your neck. Bloody hands gripped your waist as you hugged him tighter.

"Let not even death separate you from me Y/N."

"Then don't let it, Haruchiyo."

'All three of them changed because of me that day.'

'Even though Y/N is still my best friend, the event that changed her was actually something different than that. '

'A person's first murder and the reason for that murder can sometimes be both frightening and sad.'

Hi guys! This is my first story on Tumblr! I hope everyone who reads it enjoys reading it. If you like it, don't forget to fill the heart with love and follow me!

And I'm a foreigner, sorry in advance for my typos!

Bye 💗

I found it from @kurowoh 's Pinterest.

So pretty 🌸

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