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yellow-berrys · 1 year

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sweet weeping soul | remus lupin x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Poor thing,” she says.

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

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

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

“Hey,” he breathes.

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re all gone?”

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

“Are you okay then?”

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

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

You had smiled, “Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guess I need a life update then.”

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

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

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

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

“Really? I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Never, lovely.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh not Peter. Remus Lupin.”

You smile. Delicious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus nods at you, “Morning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You free this Saturday?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“Next Saturday?”

“Nah.”

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

He shrugs, “I’m not.”

“Why won’t you?”

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

“Enigmatic.”

He sighs, returning to his paper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither do I,” she says harshly.

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

“Since when have you known Marlene Mckinnon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stops, a little disgruntled.

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

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

You laugh, “Are you missing it?”

“Never.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh. No flowers.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Girl’s night!!” Dorcas yells.

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

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

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

“Hey. Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Without you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fine.”

“Which one do you want?”

“Marlene.”

Sirius flies over to Marlene, mounting his broomstick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s pitch black, idiot,” she grins.

He smiles boyishly.

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

“Mm?”

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

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

“You smell great,” you smile at her.

“Thanks.”

“No problemo.”

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

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

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

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

Marlene comes out, drying her hair with a towel.

“Are we good to go?”

“Yeah!”

“C’mon.”

You look back, “Bye Remus!”

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

He’s thinking about you. Sweet weeping soul.

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

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

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

You laugh, “Professor-”

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

“Nerve?!”

“Sirius Black does have some calling me that.”

Both of you let out watery chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ask her!” Jolene hisses.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Get a load of you," James scoffs.

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

“How was work?” Marlene asks.

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

“Oh really. That mother-”

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

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

“We do have excellent public relations.”

“Where’s James?”

“He’s picking up Regulus.”

“Awh,” you coo.

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

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

“Good my a-”

“Language!” Marlene calls.

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

“Hey,” you open the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rem…”

“Go away,” he mutters, muffled.

“Remus.”

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

“What happened?”

“I like this girl.”

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

“Yeah?”

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

The disappointment is winning.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not good enough for her.”

The words crush you, and you frown.

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

He looks at you, eyes swarming with that emotion.

“Thank you, darling.”

–

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

“What are you doing here, Remus?”

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

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

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

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

“I am. When will you be off work?”

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

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

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asks.

"Yep.”

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

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

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

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

“Obviously.”

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

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

You smile, “I’m Y/n.”

“Petunia Evans.”

“Lily?”

“Yes. Are you his girlfriend?”

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

“His crush, you say?”

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

She giggles, “Okay!”

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

“Damn, you’re good.”

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

Remus blushes.

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

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

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

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

“These are for you,” he murmurs.

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

“Services?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Can we try this out then?”

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

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

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solarmorrigan · 10 months

Text

So this started out as some scribbly thoughts on FTM Steve and devolved a little bit into smutty Steddie rambling. As happens. So anyway, explicit text below the cut, click through at your own discretion, et cetera

Warnings(?) for some clumsy language and hints of period-typical transphobia; some discussion of Steve and Nancy together, but only for Steddie purposes. This is mostly just silly

“So, wait, you slept with how many girls in high school, and still managed to keep this a secret?” Eddie asks, brows climbing his forehead.

“Not as many as rumor would’ve had you think.” Steve shrugs. “Like maybe four? The rest, I just… didn’t discourage when they exaggerated. Helped my image.”

Eddie can’t help but snort. He’s glad Steve outgrew that image. “Still, four is a lot to keep a lid on. All of them agreed not to tell and then just – didn’t?”

“Actually, most of them never found out. It was only–” Steve pauses, eyeing Eddie cautiously, as if talking about his past female sexual conquests with his current boyfriend is fine, but what he’s going to say next will be a bridge too far. “It was only Nancy who ever knew.”

Ah.

Ah, yes. Nancy. Nancy Wheeler. Steve’s one true love.

Until now, Eddie fiercely reminds himself. He eyes the t-shirt that is very much his that Steve is very much wearing and slides over the jealousy to address his more pressing question.

“Okay, how did you have sex with at least three other people without them finding out you don’t have a–” Eddie stops short, fumbles for a moment, “a, uh, conventional dick?”

Steve snickers. “Nice save. And, uh – I never actually took off my pants. My talents are in other areas, and I always provided enough of a distraction that they didn’t seem to notice when I just… took care of myself.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Eddie, who can’t help but give him the laugh he’s looking for. “It didn’t say flattering things about my stamina, but multiple orgasms are a pretty good bribe. I got good reviews.”

“Huh.” Somehow, Eddie can’t help but feel impressed; he doesn’t quite understand why Steve had felt the need to do it at all—still doesn’t really understand Steve’s drive for popularity when he’d been in high school—but he can admit the skill in the subterfuge. “But you told Wheeler?”

He’s not sure why he’s asking. A part of him, he thinks, wants to make sure Steve had been able to tell her on his own terms, rather than having his hand forced.

Steve shifts, shrugs. He doesn’t look sad, but he’s maybe a little melancholy.

“Nance wasn’t… temporary, for me. She wasn’t a fling, and I didn’t want to hide from her. And it’s the same with you.” Steve’s gaze falls heavy on Eddie. “You are the… third? person I’ve ever told. I want you to know just– all of me.”

Eddie reaches out, grabbing for Steve’s hand; he’s pretty sure he’d be physically incapable of stopping himself from somehow touching Steve after an admission like that.

A thought is beginning to form, however, leading back to what had started this conversation in the first place. Eddie would bet anything that if Wheeler was the first person Steve told, then Buckley was the second.

And that meant only one person Steve had slept with had ever known all of him – but just how much of all of him had Wheeler been interested in?

“How’d she take it? Wheeler, I mean,” Eddie asks, as casually as possible while his thumb is still stroking Steve’s knuckles.

“Uh… pretty good, actually. She was kinda surprised, and she wanted a little bit of time to come around to the idea, but I think she was mostly just bothered that she didn’t figure it out before I told her.” Steve smiles, distantly fond. “But after that, she was cool. We didn’t talk about it much, but I knew that I could talk to her if I wanted to. I’d never had that before. It was… nice.”

It does sound nice. It had probably been the first time anyone had ever been close to accepting every part of who Steve is, and Eddie feels almost bad about turning the memory to sex.

Almost, but not quite.

“So… she was cool with…” Eddie’s eyes flash down below the belt, obvious and significant, “getting involved?”

A sly grin spreads over Steve’s face as he catches Eddie’s eyes. “Are you trying to ask what Nancy and I did in bed?”

Eddie throws his hands up in defense, forgetting for a moment that he’s holding one of Steve’s hands and pulling it up with him. “I’m just trying to figure out what I’m working with here,” he insists, smiling a little too hard to be innocent. “Now, you insinuated you have talents in the oral and digital departments—which I am very interested in, by the way—but what I want to know is what’s been done for you.”

Steve eyes Eddie like he’s considering whether or not to answer, but the way he’s licking his lips says he’s already decided, even if he doesn’t quite realize that himself.

“She… definitely didn’t mind being involved,” he says finally; there’s a slight stain of pink gathering at the tops of his cheeks that Eddie sort of wants to bite. “She would finger me. Sometimes she’d go down on me, but I think we both enjoyed it more the other way around. I think she liked seeing me get myself off while I did it, and I– definitely liked that, too.”

Eddie makes the mistake of imagining it: Steve on his knees, fingers buried in his cunt, wet and dripping, his hips jerking down onto his own hand, maybe kneeling between Eddie’s legs while he does it, maybe looking up through his lashes while he sucks Eddie’s cock.

A little noise escapes Eddie.

“How about… toys?” he manages after a moment. He’s leaning closer now, raptly watching the way the flush on Steve’s face darkens. “You ever try those?”

“I have a… a couple,” Steve says, voice gone low and rough, his eyes fastened now to Eddie’s mouth. “We didn’t use them together, though, they’re just mine.”

Oh, they’re going to revisit that. They are absolutely going to revisit that, but right now Eddie is on a mission. He won’t let himself be distracted.

He slides closer, practically on top of Steve now, one hand on his hip and the other spread warmly over his ribs.

“Never thought about a strap?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, not nearly as nonchalant as he’s pretending. “Thought about it, never quite got there.”

“Which way were you thinking? Would you have worn it? Or…” Eddie is going out on a limb here; just because Steve has a pussy doesn’t mean he likes the idea of penetration, but Eddie has a hunch. “Or would it have been the other way around?”

A sharp breath escapes Steve’s chest. “Do you want that?” he asks, soft, almost hopeful.

Eddie strokes a thumb across his ribs. “Want what?”

“To fuck me.”

This time it’s Eddie who goes breathless. “Is that even a fucking question?” he demands, and then, in case he wasn’t clear, adds, “I would want very much to do that, yeah. If you want me to.”

“I wasn’t sure if you would,” Steve says. “I mean, I know you’re strictly into guys, and I don’t exactly have… a conventional dick.”

“You’re not gonna let that one go, are you?” Eddie asks, eyeing Steve’s smirk.

“We’ll see,” Steve says, which likely means no.

“Fine. But Steve,” Eddie reaches up, cupping Steve’s face in his hands, “I am one hundred fucking percent into you. You are a guy. You are an incredibly hot guy whose pants I have been wanting to get into forever, no matter what you’ve got in there.”

Steve smiles, and Eddie caresses the corners of it with his thumbs.

“Well, you do seem to prefer the weirder shit, anyway,” Steve murmurs.

“Not weird. Different,” Eddie says, and Steve makes a face at him but readily allows him the kiss he presses in for after that.

“So have you…” Steve starts, once they’ve broken apart, “ever been with a guy with my, uh– sort of equipment?”

Eddie would make fun of how awkwardly the words had tumbled out if he hadn’t suddenly been feeling a bit awkward himself.

“Not, uh, exactly.” Steve raises an eyebrow at him and Eddie amends snappishly, “okay, fine, not at all, no.”

“But you’re open to it?” Steve checks, as if the way Eddie has pressed against him like a needy cat has left any room for doubt.

“More than open,” Eddie says. “I might just, y’know– need some direction? To start with?”

“Directions, huh?” Steve smirks. “I can work with that.”

Eddie has no doubt that he can – and that Eddie will enjoy every second of it.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #trans steve harrington #stranger things #solar wrote #let me know if there's something I need to tag this with that I missed #eddiesteve

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thecattishdragon · 3 months

Text

I'm just gonna... -dumps all of my N headcanons-

- Pansexual

- Adhd & Autism

- 20 years old

- Born/created on April 22nd

- Height: 6’6

- Ptsd, scared of loud noises

- Likes carrying Uzi around. Mostly does it when she’s tired or feeling sad.

- Knows a lot about many animals, not just dogs. Often randomly brings up facts about animals during conversation.

- Has dents and scratches from J and V. Most of them are covered by his coat, so nearly nobody knows.

- Collects random things he finds interesting. Stickers, Books, Rocks he finds cool, and various shiny things are some of the things he collects the most. He gives shiny things, cool rocks, etc. to Uzi :>

- Rubs his claws together and taps them on things to stim

- Curls his tail around himself holds it in his hands when uncomfortable/nervous/scared

- Launches self into the air like a cat whenever startled

- Pets Uzi’s tail like a dog whenever it’s around (It LOVES him for this)

- VERY fluffy and soft hair.

- likes headpats and scritchies ^^

- Sometimes chases tail when bored (Did this A LOT before the events of Episode One)

- Defensive of Uzi when J is around, Curls tail around her, pulls her closer, etc.

- Gets VERY flustered VERY easily. He can go from chill to a blushing mess just with a small kiss or a flirtatious remark

- His hair is just long enough to be pulled into a little ponytail. Uzi finds this absolutely adorable but TELLS NOBODY

- Often eats things he’s not supposed to. Chalk, wood, dirt, etc. His thought process is “I wonder what this tastes like.. Nothing bad will happen if I eat this, right?

Ehhh it’ll be fine” Most of the time it’s fine. *most*

- His voice can go veeerry deep.

- Just as oilthirsty as J and V are, he’s just most excited about the HUNT, not the killing itself. He has single-handedly contributed to around 2/4 of the corpse spire

due to him wanting to be seen as somewhat useful

- Does like most anime, even the violent and gory ones.

- Sometimes has flashback episodes or nightmares where he vividly relives all the traumatic stuff that’s happened to him. Completely silent most of the time, tail curled around himself, trembling, sometimes wings covering himself, eyes closed tightly or just staring into the void

- He loves reading. He can read BIG WORDS like DISCOMBOBULATE and ABOMINATION

- Freaks out whenever he’s near a cute animal. Which, to him, is EVERY animal. Tessa has had to stop him from petting a crocodile before.

- Gets spooked and hides under the nearest bed, table, chair, couch, blanket, pillow, etc. or behind Uzi like a dog whenever there’s fireworks or lightning. He does

think that fireworks are pretty when he doesn’t hear them

- Carries Uzi when she’s tired on long flights

- Separation anxiety

- Has the urge to touch EVERYTHING. Whether it be a cute animal or weird thing he found on the ground, he wants to touch it.

- You know this boi gives the best hugs and cuddles <3

- Clings to Uzi in his sleep and covers her with his wings. Most of the time he doesn’t even do it consciously, he just automatically does it.

- Frequent :3 :0 :D :) :( D: XD :3c etc. user

- Extremely skilled in making/preparing all kinds of drinks

- Was never really the same after the events of the show. He’s recovered well, but he’s not exactly the same. More easily saddened/angered, jumpier, anxiety levels higher, etc.

#murder drones headcanon #murder drones #biscuitbites #n x uzi #enzi #nuzi #N murder drones #Serial Designation N #CattishDragon posts

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thesharktanksdriver · 10 months

Text

Weaving threads of friendship (mostly platonic)

Refer to this post.

As the people requested, Hobie’s partner meeting Miles.

This one is significantly shorter than my last one partially cause I think this is pretty straightforward

From the moment Miles Morales heard of Hobie brown he didn’t know exactly how to feel about him

It happened in passing as he and Gwen had swung through the city

The first time since the collider incident that he had seen her, months of wondering if she was fine

If she and the others had made it back safe

And now as they go around city just like he had hoped if she mentions him

He couldn’t help but feel a twang of panic

Feelings he’s harboured for the blond that had been simmering for a long while coming to a bubbling uproar

Didn’t help as he pushed the subject and got in response that she had apparently been living with him

An ugly seed of envy sprouts it’s way into his gut at that

He can’t help but feel ashamed of it

This was Gwen, of course she found someone. She was the coolest person he knows

Someone who could do ballet while fighting villains

Plus was apart of some kickass band in her dimension

He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if she was selling out stadiums

And if she wasn’t currently, then he fully expected that for her future

He should feel happy that she found someone

Happy that she was in a good place

Yet it’s hard to ignore that sprouting envy as his emotions are already high enough as it is when seeing her again

It doesn’t help when he meets Hobie though

Having a moment to prove himself and then suddenly having it quite literally dashed open

With a guitar no less

Doesn’t help that he was cool as hell

The studded black leather vest

Spike Mohawk

Doc Martin boots

British accent

Silver gleaming piercings

Miles knew he couldn’t compare to him

And by god did it hurt

From the moment Hobie saw miles he knew knew he’d like the accidental Spider-Man

It might be due to the fact that Miguel did NOT want him apart of the Spider regime

On the fact that him being Spider-Man went against canon

But it also had to do with the fact that he recognized how he looked at Gwen

It’s how Hobie looked at you

Sure, he couldn’t see under the mask but it was very glaringly obvious to Brit

That was the gaze of someone who was in a deep passionate love

Something akin to fizzling fireworks that popped off in the night

Pop rocks exploding on your tongue on a humid day

Sappy romantic shite that he once never thought he’d think of

Until he rapidly found himself staring at you with that same expression

It makes him chuckle a bit thinking back

How glaringly obvious he was with his feelings yet you couldn’t accept the signs

Not until he told you face to face

Good times

With that look he also sees a slight sadness with it as well

Miles occasionally glancing at him and then back to Gwen

The slight bitter taste Miles held in his voice when addressing him

But what…oh

That realization almost makes Hobie burst out in laughter

Poor lad is probably running circles in his head for nothing

He’s definitely gonna have to tell him

One the tour of the HQ Hobie lingers close by to the newbie

Hands on his pockets as Jessica leads to way to Miguel’s sulking area

With the lame and inconveniently slow office floor elevator

A perfect example of capitalism

He pulls Miles aside with an arm around his shoulder, making Mikes give a noise of complaint

Until Hobie pulled out a Polaroid from an inner pocket of his vest

In it was Hobie with another person

Both staring up at the camera as he gave them a kiss

Miles looks to him in confusion

“I thought you and-“

“Gwenivere? Nah mate. S’ just crashin at my place cause home ain’t the best for her right now.”

“And that’s?”

“Yeah, my partner in crime so to say. Should meet them sometime, they’d like ya”

“Really?”

“Gwen won’t stop talking bout you.”

Hobie stifles a laugh at Miles’s face

The look of surprise and Fluster washing over the young lad as he shoots a glance at Gwen

Who all the while remained obvious to his stare as he directs it to the ground once more

Hobie grabs a new piece of tech as he does this

Pocketing it as he did with many other nick-knacks he’d found and swiped

To be fair, if it’s not nailed to the ground real nice then it’s free territory for grabbing

Or well…that’s what he tells others anyways

The piles of scrap pilled up in both his home and your room is a testament to that

As was the prototypes of his own dimension hoping bracelet

When you met Miles you couldn’t help but be extremely excited as the young Spider-Man sat down on Hobie’s worn and old ripped leather couch

Gwen often talked of him

So now seeing him in person is a extremely fun experience especially since he’s awkward in a way that reminds you of your past self

Conversation starts off slow at first

Stuff mostly revolving around his universe

What he liked

Etcetera Etcetera

But what really gets talk happening is when he brings up drawing

In a life in which your surrounded by musically artistic people it’s nice to have someone with a new passion

So it’s safe to say he quickly ends up showing you his sketchbook

Carefully showing you pages of graffiti tags

Mural ideas

And a few that had Gwen that he quickly flipped to a different page

You don’t comment on it but your grin alone tells him what he needs to hear

Speaking of which, Gwen is ecstatic that you get to meet Miles

She would not spot talking about it even before the whole “don’t tell mikes about the spider society” situation happened and was figured out

You definitely tease her a bit about it

And Miles as well

Buts it’s all in good nature

Miles finds you to be down to earth and Hobie’s translator of sorts

He doesn’t at all get British slang or can understand what Hobie is talking about so you help with that

Using an phrases and metaphors work better for his American understanding

He thanks whatever god there is for that cause sometimes he swears Hobie is making up shit just to confuse him

If you show him all the handmade gifts Hobie has made for you he gets a lot of creative inspiration

Especially since he’s always willing to step out of his normal medium

Show him how to make his own custom pins and he’ll return later with at least 15 plus a couple for you and Hobie

Their also really well drawn as well

So it’s a win win for everyone

At some point you secretly ask him to make some potential album cover art for Hobie and he is fucking ecstatic

He’s never done something like that before so he takes to trying it very seriously

Experimenting with styles

Trying new techniques

Eventually he settles down on a mix of graffiti and collage of news paper clippings

Cause apparently to him you both look as if your straight from newspaper clippings mashed together

Gwen can attest to this as well

Hobie ends up fucking loving it

And Gwen, Miles and Pavitr have to deal with the punk being all lovey dovey to you in a way they had never imagined Hobie to be

He’s peppering your face with kisses and swinging you around in a hug

You let out a small yell as he tosses you up and catches you

It’s honestly really sweet

“How did I once find him intimidating?”

“Eh, it’s not much of a surprise to me. You’d be surprised to find out how many Punk people are actually really sweet”

“I think it’s also cause you thought he was dating g-“

He eventually puts you down and pulls them into a hug

That quickly turns into him aggressively messing up their hair

“I take what I said back”

“Hey! Don’t mess with the hair! My beautiful natural hair!”

“Why am I even surprised anymore?”

Safe to say miles has become a new vital part of this group

And you wouldn’t have it any other way

#hobie brown x reader #across the spiderverse x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #atsv x reader #miles morales x reader

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thatanimewriter · 4 months

Text

BEAR HUG.

➳ request: Hello! Can I request Ruby, Blake, Yang, Weiss, and Neo with either a male or gn!reader (whichever is more comfortable for you) s/o who is tall (Not that tall, I’m talking like 6’0) and normally very stoic but absolutely melts when shown any affection at all from the girls and turns into a massive cuddle bear. Please and thank you! Have a wonderful day!

➳ character/s: ruby rose, weiss schnee, blake belladonna, yang xiao long, neopolitan

➳ warnings: you're a criminal (neo)

➳ notes: 6'0 feels tall for my little 5'2 ass LMAO thanketh for request :)), also sorry these are kinda short-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄.

no one knew why y'all were together initially, it was weird

why is this energetic child with this sophisticated partner????

but everyone knows you have a soft spot for ruby, because even if she's annoying you, you'll be less harsh with her

and if she ever clings to you, a nearly invisible smile rests on your lips

she could use her semblance to sit on your shoulders or cling to your bicep, yet you never pushed her away

if anything, the people saw how you kind of craved it

people wouldn't believe their eyes when they see you with your head atop hers and your arms wrapped around her waist

especially with the big, innocent looking eyes rather than your usual half-lidded gaze

they would think someone is a photoshop wizard if they showed them a photo of you cuddling in your sleep

who knew someone could have such different sides to them??

── 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐄.

what a strict couple istg

you're both so serious most of the time, if weiss wasn't so dramatic at times, people would think you were the same person

not a big affection person, but only because she's touch-starved

when she starts initiating, she's very nervous to because she doesn't know if you want her to

but then she sees the way your face relaxes and your body slumps a bit

and now shes gonna be initiating a lot more, but mostly in private or in times of high stress

if anything, you want hugs all the time and she's the one telling you to chill out (pun intended)

she'll never reject you though, but she will look annoyed

often forgets you're perceived as stoic, because she's more accustomed to cuddly you now

wishes you weren't so tall so that you could cuddle easier though-

── 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀.

another stoic girlie

she probably purrs if you give her cuddles and scratch her head and behind her ears

rubs her head against you when she wants attention (only in private)

found out how much of a cuddle monster you are because of it

probably complains a little when you don't let go of her in the mornings and hug her tighter

gets whiplash from soft you and serious you all the time

the moment you're alone with her you're being all pouty and making grabby hands for hugs

secretly loves it, but she also has a reputation to uphold

has a lot of photos of you being cuddly on her scroll

you're 100% mor affectionate than she is, but it's fine

── 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆.

you'll never be perceived as a stoic person ever with her around

she's constantly coming to give you affection, so you'll have to give up the serious thing

she always teases you about being soft around her

you'll never escape her snide comments about how you're not as stoic as you want to be

you're the one being hugged, not doing the hugging

and she'll secretly film you every time-

hidden scroll on the bookshelf waiting for you to come in the room and get hugged >:((

when she feels sad she always reviews those videos to feel better about things

and she never tells you she's filming :))

── 𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍.

is small enough to dangle from your arm as well

constantly clinging to you

she's very mischievous, but i think when she sees you melt a bit at any semblance of physical contact, a genuine smile would cross her face

you being softer also encourages her to be more vulnerable and less performative

she lives for the height difference though-

she won't be too affectionate in public when y'all are criminals

will let you keep the stoic facade when wreaking havoc for sure, won't jeopardise that reputation

but in private, only soft times, never serious times in the scary sense

serious times in a loving, deep talk way ;v;

she also has lots of photos of your sleeping face while you cuddle her

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writer-room · 6 months

Text

I hope we get to see Zane and Nya bonding, directly or indirectly, about the love of their lives being AWOL. Partially because I like sad angst and also those two interacting. Mostly because I think it'd be really funny.

Listen. Listen to me. Neither of them are going about this mourning/panicking process the same way. Not even close. Zane has a broom with Pixal's face and is sighing longingly while looking off the Destiny's Bounty. A faraway look in his eye that makes the others feel really bad for him. When will she return from the war? When will half of his heart return to him? It feels like weeks. Months. Years. It's been four hours and in actuality he's mostly fine he's just sad about it.

Nya meanwhile is trying to subtly ask everyone if they've seen Jay around and very much acting completely Calm and Chill about it but also pretty worried underneath. She seems like she's fine. She is not. At all times she is 0.4 seconds away from yeeting herself into the sea again. Constantly down to 1v1 someone in a duel just for looking at her weird. Will kick open a door shouting at top volume if anyone's seen her cringefail of a fiancé. Her designated dragon is quite literally lightning-based. She's going through it on five different levels but if she tells anyone that she will die instantly.

And I think these two should go on a solo mission together. Thoughts?

#ninjago #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #lego ninjago #lego ninjago dragons rising #nya #ninjago nya #zane julian #ninjago zane #pixal #ninjago pixal #jay walker #ninjago jay walker #jaya #pixane #can be ship pixane but also not. shes the love of his life but 'love' is in a very broad context here #ideas #headcanons #text post #nya voice HAVE YOU SEEN MY FIANCE. HES ABOUT THIS TALL CLEARLY NEEDS A THERAPIST BUT WE HAVENT HAD THE TALK #but thats like in her head. externally shes just heyyy. you ever heard of the Lightning Ninja? no? haha oh well guess i'll keep looking #zane looks like he'd belong in a victorian novel. pride & prejudice standing under a balcony in the rain lookin guy #should be in a painting. but then someone talks to him and hes like oh hey :]#misses pixal so much but he can keep it together yknow. looking in nyas head feels like waiting for a pipe bomb to go off #this is partially bc pixal could be dropped in a volcano & be fine. give her an old can & she'll somehow make a beacon. shes probably fine #jay meanwhile cannot be left alone for 2 seconds else he will destroy something. start a cult. get tortured. or cause problems on purpose #and probably all of those things in that exact order. will he die? no. never. but he will get mad anxiety & nya needs her purse dog to be #okay. also she doesnt wanna deal with whatever nonsense he faceplanted into. 'its rotten work. especially if its you. ill do it but christ'#meanwhile zane is the original quote w pix hes like its rotten work but not if its you <3

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cal-flakes · 9 months

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can you do a story where the reader and rafe are bestfriends and he confesses that he likes her & he wasnt expecting her to feel the same way but she does?🧍🏼‍♀️

╰┈➤ bestfriend!rafe tells y/n the truth (blurb)

warnings: light swearing, kinda hurt/comfort, fluff.

summary: rafe get a bit fed up of listening to his friends sob story’s about boys who don’t treat her well. (very heartbreak girl by 5sos)

rafe sighed heavily as his hand ached, having been stroking y/n’s hair for quite some time. his eyes flickered between her and television, trying to see if she’d fallen asleep or not.

“y/n?” he whispered, jolting her slightly. groaning in response, she turned to face him, showing him her puffy, flushed face, covered in dried tears from earlier. “yeah?” she cooed, resting her head against the arm of the couch as she sat up, cuddling into his side.

“i thought you’d fallen asleep, are you feeling any better?” he queried, a sad look in his eyes. “i am now that you’re here” she smiled sweetly, allowing her head to fall into the crook of his neck.

sighing, his eyes moved to the television once again, deep in thought as she nuzzled into him, not caring for the splotches of tears cascading down his white t-shirt.

“do you really mean that?” he asked, deciding to go for the kill. “mean what?” she hummed, glancing back up at him.

“do you really mean that you’re happier when i’m here?” he pushed, watching as her facing contorted into confusion. “of course i do, you’re my best friend, i’m always happier when you’re around..” she muttered tiredly, a need for sleep apparent as a violet hue spread underneath her eyes.

“no but, that’s not what i- actually, it’s fine, it doesn’t matter..” rafe huffed, throwing his head back against the couch in defeat. she’d never understand, he thought. “hey, no. it does matter, cause something is clearly bothering you” y/n argued.

the sudden lack of warmth in his side couldn’t go unnoticed as she sat up in a flash, confronting him head on. “what do you mean rafe?” she sighed, resting her now crossed legs on his waist as he avoided her eyes, biting at his nails.

“y/n please, it’s fine” he plead, wanting the ground to swallow him up as he realised his options. lie, or tell the truth. he didn’t want to tell the truth, but he also didn’t want to lie. mostly because he knew that she would know in an instant if he was lying, her ability to tell honestly grated on him sometimes.

“but you seem sad rafe, and i hate when you’re sad, and like- y’know, i’m sad too! so if you tell me why you’re sad, we can be sad together” she rambled, giggling slightly as she prodded at his cheeks, clearly pushing his buttons. “so tell me why you’re sad, cause i’m sure i can help!” she beamed, cupping his cheeks.

his heartbeat quickened as he leant into her warm touch, enjoying the slight scrape of her nails against his skin.

“fine, okay. i’m sad, because..a girl i really like, like- really really like, doesn’t look at me the same way..” he mumbled, once again diverting his eyes. “seriously? who would be stupid enough to not like you back? that’s insane!” she exclaimed, pulling back to show him her shocked face. chuckling, he nodded along with her. “yeah, you’d think so huh?”

“do you want me to talk to her? i could put in a good word?” she teased, though her words were genuine. she’d do anything for him.“don’t be silly, she wouldn’t listen, she’s got too much on her mind already..”

“what’s more important than you?” she huffed, crossing her arms, utterly surprised by this girls behaviour towards her friend. humming, he picked at his fingers. “what?” y/n asked, noticing his change in demeanour immediately.

she scoffed as he fell completely silent, staring into her eyes. “rafe, what is it?” she demanded, growing frustrated. “well, it’s you..” he whispered, pulling into his lips into a thin line “what’s me? i don’t understand..”

“y’know, the girl i really like, who as more important things on her mind? it’s you y/n..”

“it’s me?”

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oreo-oro-orero · 2 months

Text

I thought I would talk more about how I feel Ekko is often mistreated or ignored by the Arcane fandom and why I think that is and spoiler alert I Anti-Blackness is at least a part of it.

Ekko is subjected to what a lot of black boys are too in real life which is adultification. Ekko just like a lot of black boys was essentially forced to grow up and due to this I think a lot of the Arcane Fandom treat him as an adult and thus judge him more harshly just like how in real life black boys are often treated as older then they actually are and thus are subjected to more scruinty and Ekko is sadly constantly subjected to this by the fans. This is in direct contrast with Jinx who seems to be given a lot more leeway which to a certain extent is understandable because it is her story essentially but I still find it odd how she is given the "oh poor baby pushed around by the big bad world must protect" but Ekko is just given a side glance and a "he's doing fine" when both Ekko and Jinx deserve that "need to protect" additude but yet it feels like Jinx is given the most of the protection and Ekko is just left to fend for himself.

Honestly I don't think a lot of the Arcane Fandom looks at Ekko as a victim and that is genuinely upsetting. They look at his situation as more of a success story but even then his "success" is is very sad when you think about it. Yes he built a community and yes I guess he did "turn out okay" despite his situation but he shouldn't have had build that community in the first place and just because he did doesn't mean he's healed, trauma doesn't just go away because your relatively okay compared to everyone else. I also think his hurt isn't taken as seriously as the other characters because he doesn't actively display it as much, in total his hurt is displayed in two main instances and that's it mostly, the other times he's on screen he's either angry or at the very least mildly annoyed or somber which is interesting because this is most likely a mask he wears and this mask is a direct result of the adultification I talked about earlier.

Ekko suffers from what a lot of black characters do which is that despite them going through the same or sometimes even more trauma then non black characters, their trauma is often overlooked or downplayed to be less then it is which is something that happens in IRL to black people all the time. Also this mischaracterization of Ekko extended to Shipping as well to where some people label him as an abuser towards Jinx which is ironic because he is one out of like 2 other characters that doesn't actively kill anyone and if anything he tries to avoid that as much as possible so I genuinely don't understand where this abuser assumption came from, is it because they genuinely Believe it or is it because they saw a black man being aggressive an automatically assumed he was the one in the wrong in the situation.

I got a little bit ranty there and I apologize but Ekko is my favorite character from the show and just fiction in general and I feel like he has so much to offer but he is seemingly being mistreated by other fans of the show and that just doesn't sit right with me. I just hope next season really gives him his time in the spotlight.

#timebomb #ekko arcane #arcane #ekko #ekko league of legends #its kinda funny that despite how much people analyze the characters in this show Ekko is often given a very surface level look #its also a bit eyebrow raising how the one prominent black boy in the show is labeled as an abuser by some fans #i just want Ekko to get more love in the community

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arliedraws · 4 days

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In the books, Sirius's devotion to Harry is of course very deep, but it never translates to something physical. He only shakes Harry's end when he leaves his bedside in book 4, and in book 5 there is something resembling a hug, like twice...? As a dog he stood up his hind legs and front paws on harry's shoulders and a half hug after Christmas. Idk it sort of drives me crazy, because in the movies Harry and Sirius are so affectionate! That first hug when Harry arrives in Grimmauld!! Gary and Dan had an amazing chemistry that other actors were jealous of, they mirrored the book characters, so it palpable on screen, the few scenes Gary is in at all at least.

So, what do you make of this? Do you in musing for art imagine a more affectionate relationship between Harry and Sirius? Maybe if Sirius survived the war? Molly's hug in book 4 was a poignant moment but imo that should have been a moment between Sirius and Harry. Sirius already says he expected something catastrophic to happen to Harry in the third task, that's what he stutters when Harry comes in with Dumblebore. So he is literally afraid of his godsons life and it still shows of course, Sirius staying at Harry's side was very beautifully written, like the devotion is clear, but I am foaming at the mouth for more affection between them in canon? Platonic, not shipping. So between the movies and the books Im just kinda torn what's better

It's more a rant than an ask, sorry lol, but if you have any input I'd he so stoked to read it. Not many peeps in the fandom even give Sirius and Harry any time of day, nvrmind even understand what they had (which also drives me kinda nuts but ok)

Ohhhh, anon, you’ve come to the right spot! Mostly because I love them. I would say that 80% of my fandom interest is just Sirius being a dad to Harry.

To your question, I don’t think one is better than the other. Each has their purpose. Let me share my thoughts:

1. I am soft for movie Sirius and Harry’s affectionate touching. However. The dynamics of their relationship were NOT mirrored from the books, which…is fine. Honestly, I just don’t think it was a priority for the filmmakers. This particular bit doesn’t bother me because the movies are not supposed to replace the source material—they are an interpretation. To me, watching the movies is like reading fic—fun to watch but not canon. Also, the filmmakers removed so much of their relationship in GoF that they HAD to make Sirius and Harry physically affectionate in order for movie audiences to see what losing Sirius would mean to Harry. Their complexity is completely unexplored in the films, and they had to do SOMETHING to get the audience to feel sad when Sirius died. This started in PoA when they really downplayed the context of their relationship. (Lol, see my rant on PoA. I really don’t like that movie hahahahaha.)

2. In the books, Harry and Sirius are not physically affectionate with each other despite their intense love for each other, and I think this is an effective way to show characterization. As I tell my students, this might have been intentional by the author, but it could have been an instinct that she followed (what feels right for the characters).

Here’s what I think: both are so terrified of losing the other that they won’t allow themselves to get too close, and, crucially, they both fear showing vulnerability. Touching someone and reaching out for a hug or comfort is an extremely vulnerable thing to do. If you reach out for a hug, you are showing your true feelings. To be rejected physically is sometimes more devastating than someone telling you to just “go away.” It’s a sign of trust to touch someone—you are trusting that they feel the same way about you, and you are trusting that they won’t pull away. Both Sirius and Harry understand rejection, and both avoid it. How do you avoid rejection? You distance yourself.

I’ll put the rest under a cut because I think this might get long…

Sirius and Harry, for all that they love each other, fall out of trusting each other by OotP. Part of this is trauma, but it is also miscommunication. Harry is worried that Sirius will do something stupid—either out of concern for Harry or because he wants to get out of number 12–but he’s worried he’ll lose Sirius. So by withholding affection (which I’m not sure if he knows how to give physically), Harry distances himself from Sirius which will, theoretically, keep Sirius safe (of course, it backfires). Sirius is…you know…going through stuff in OotP. He is already vulnerable—he perceives himself as being emasculated because he’s not allowed to leave his childhood home and he’s relegated to performing ‘uninteresting, domestic work’, and he must be inactive when he’s a man OF action.

When it comes to Goblet of Fire and the odd handshake… I think Sirius is reeeeeally holding back. Harry does NOT want him to go, and Sirius knows this. (Why DOES Dumbledore send him away? Literally anyone else could have “alerted the old crowd” and NOT the convicted murderer. This is clearly the author’s excuse to get Sirius away from Harry—and, I’ve spoken to this before, Sirius is too much of a miracle character—too smart, too loyal, too loving to support the story that the author wanted to tell.) Sirius, if he had stayed, would have been the emotional support that Harry needed. So if Sirius holds Harry, what if Harry doesn’t let go? What if Sirius himself can’t let go? A handshake will have to do.

So Sirius leaves Harry with that bizarre handshake. That Sirius leaves at all damages their relationship—it could have been repaired with time (if they’d been allowed time), but this moment makes Harry realize that he cannot rely on anyone, not even Sirius. This leaves Harry to be isolated in OotP, and it leaves him to feel like he cannot trust anyone. I’m not blaming Sirius for leaving, but I believe this action causes a rift between them that carries into the next book.

My point is, I HATE that they don’t touch but it is very important that they don’t, at least when it comes to the story that the author wanted to tell. I think it was the right move when we look at the story as a whole. Do I like it? NO! But it’s interesting, and it DOES feel right for them. Is it devastating? Yes!!!!!!!

TL;DR: I don’t think either interpretation is necessarily better than the other, but they both have their purpose. Both are effective!

Touch is…huge in HP. Consider Voldemort’s “I can touch him now” and causing Harry pain. Touch is a privilege, and to be touched without permission is a violation. Harry kills someone by touching them. He is only touched by his family when Dudley beats him up or he gets shoved in his cupboard.

Weirdly, one of my absolutely favorite moments when Sirius and Harry touch is in PoA when the Dementors are closing in on Sirius, Harry, and Hermione, and Harry, as he’s about to faint, reaches out to grab an unconscious Sirius by the arm, thinking something along the lines of “the dementors weren’t going to take him” and such. And this is about two seconds after Harry has accepted that Sirius is telling the truth! Harry physically tethers Sirius to him—this touch-starved teen reaches out to this man who is now everything to him, who is now his only real family, willing to risk death (or worse) to keep it. BUT THEY JUST MET!!!!! Devastating!!!

Also…another thought: the first time Sirius and Harry touch is the first time Sirius has been touched as a human in twelve years. And Harry is beating the absolute shit out of him…and then Sirius nearly strangles him…

Also, also, not to like…self-promote, but if you want some Sirius & Harry family feelings and a wee bit of affectionate touching, I wrote a one-shot where they talk about their feelings in OotP.

Anyway, this got longer than I thought. Thank you for the prompt!!

#if this sounds critical of sirius it’s not #he is a Very Good Character #if he were ‘perfect’ he’d be boring #i like his messy parts #and i like harry’s #i wish there had been more of them together #but i like that we can build the relationship outside of what we’re given #i love AUs #sirius black #harry potter #hp meta #long post #asks

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lipglossanon · 3 months

Text

In Heaven, Everything is Fine

╔════�� °• ♔ •° ═════╗

Dark stepdad!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (finale)

Hello, hello 👋

This is the finale of dark stepdad! I’m trying to wrap up some of these little storylines since I want to write, well, other stories lol. Not saying I’ll never write about him again, just the ‘main’ story is now over and done with.

Posted on ao3 first since I was on a tumblr break lol

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, stepcest, daddy kink, Leon being nice to reader (with ulterior motives of course), character death, grief, kissing, dirty talk, slight nipple play, praise, pussy spanking, collaring, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh fucking

Title from a song of the same name in the movie Eraserhead

part ii

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

It was an accident. That’s what the officer at the front door relayed to you. A freak car accident that left you motherless in the blink of an eye. Lucky for you, Leon was standing behind you and heard it at the same time so no need to repeat the awful news. He seemed even more shocked than you.

“What do you mean? How did it happen?”

The officer only offered a very generic answer of a drunk driver jumping the median and hitting your mom head on and killing her instantly, like that’s any consolation. In disbelief, you wandered away to the living room to sit down on the couch, letting Leon and the officer talk.

It’s been three weeks now since the funeral, (closed casket because you couldn’t bear anyone else to see your mom in that state). You’ve been roaming the house like a ghost. Barely eating and drinking. Leon has been working overtime in trying to manage everything on his own. Secretly, you feel like he owes you that much. Your fucked up relationship with him has morphed into Leon being an actual caretaker in regards to your needs. It’s not too unexpected, but you didn’t think he would be as considerate as he has been.

It’s routine now for you to fall asleep on the couch and wake up in his bed, too tired to go to your room, letting yourself fall back to sleep next to him. Truthfully, you sleep a lot now; you know it’s not a healthy way to cope with your grief, but you also don’t give a fuck. Your mom’s dead. Your dad’s too busy to give you the time of day. Hell, he only sent a wreath of mourning to the funeral and a quick phone call of apologies to you for not being there.

Leon is truly the only person you can rely on right now and he’s been doing phenomenal, surprising you when you actually think about it and not battling the sadness threatening to overwhelm you. He’s also kept to himself aside from trying to get you to eat or drink. You know financial and legal matters have taken up a lot of his time, but even when he has moments to himself, he’s in his office on the phone with his work colleagues sorting out issues while he’s on a leave of absence.

Months pass in this way. You eventually pull yourself out of the miasma you’ve been sucked into, the grief not growing any smaller but you yourself growing around it. When the time comes to go back to class, you opt into taking the semester off. You stay at home and slowly start organizing your mother’s belongings. Leon helps if you ask, but it’s mostly you deciding on what you want to keep and what you’d like to store until you’re ready to part with it.

Another month of crying over knick-knacks and clothes, you finally finish up sorting everything you feel needs to be stored. Looking for Leon, you eventually find him in his office. You hover in his doorway and watch how his shoulder blades flex under his button down while he wraps up a phone call.

“I know, everything was moved up due to the accident. I didn’t have anything in place. I did have to change my plans, but it all worked out in the end, didn’t it? She’s—“

Leon pauses and turns to see you at the door.

“Let me call you back. Yeah.”

He places his phone down onto the desk and steeples his fingers as he leans his elbows onto the oaky top.

“Did you need something, beautiful?”

“It’s finished,” you gesture vaguely to the second floor, “I have everything sorted for tomorrow.”

He nods and grabs his phone, “I’ll email the moving company to let them know we’re ready for pickup.”

You sigh shakily, “Thanks, Leon.”

He gives you a tight smile, “It’s no problem. Are you hungry?”

Looking down at your feet, you watch as you wiggle your toes in their socks, “Not really.”

“You need to eat,” he stands up from his desk, tucking his phone into his pocket, “let’s head into the kitchen and find something.”

You lean into his warm frame as he steps up next to you, pulling him into a hug.

“Thank you,” you murmur into his chest, tears beading your lash line, “it would be worse without you here.”

Tensing, he freezes up for a second before he wraps his arms around you in a tight hug.

“I’ll always take care of you,” he kisses the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

He keeps an arm wrapped around you, pressing you into his side as you both walk to the kitchen. Guiding you to sit down at the countertop, he turns and begins rifling through the cabinets. With sudden clarity, you realize this is the first time since it all happened that you’ve sought him out. He’s been really present and patient with you while you navigate the death of your mom—just a steadfast presence in the background.

Tears slip from your lashes and you wipe them away by the time he turns back to you.

“Do you— what’s wrong?”

He walks over to you and cups your face with his big hands, thumbs rubbing away the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“I-I,” you smile even though it’s watery, heart fluttering in your chest like a bird, “I’m so thankful you’re here is all.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, eyes blank and unreadable, “you’re my special girl.”

He dips down and presses a featherlight kiss against your lips making you gasp. It’s the first time he’s shown any affection of this kind in months and it makes your fingers tingle and your stomach warm. Before he pulls away, your hands snag into his button down and pull him back in for another kiss. You’ve missed the physical connection you had with him before this whole ordeal.

“Beautiful,” he groans against your mouth, kissing you hungrily, hands going down to grab your hips and squeeze, “ my perfect pretty girl.”

“Leon,” you whimper, cunt throbbing with need that’s been lying forgotten and dormant for months on end, “daddy, please .”

“Are you sure?” He kisses a hot trail down your neck, nipping the sensitive skin.

“Yes, please,” you whine, hands tangling in his hair, “take me to bed.”

He growls and scoops you up in a bridal carry, quickly moving you upstairs to his bedroom and setting you down on the bed. Kissing you heatedly, he pins you down with his broad body, grinding his bulge into your clothed cunt. Pulling back, he helps you shimmy out of your sweats and underwear, watching with dilated eyes as clear strings of slick spider web between the gusset of your panties and your glistening pussy.

He finishes undressing you and then moves on to himself, tossing his clothes in a heap next to the bed before pressing his hot throbbing cock against your mound.

“Oh,” you gasp, rocking your hips up to feel the drippy head of his dick rub against your swollen clit.

“Wait,” Leon moves to the side to open up the nightstand and pulls out the buttery faux leather collar he bought for you ages ago.

He holds it out to you yet you shy away. You love the feeling you have when wearing it, but that plate with cursive writing is just too much for you to look at right now. It might seem silly, but sometimes the oddest things set you off and this happens to be one of them.

“It’s a lot,” your eyes dart away from the gold tag.

Leon notices and smoothly unclips it to tuck it back into the drawer. Your brows pinch together for a moment, but then you nod face smoothing into a small smile.

“Okay,” you move closer and Leon clips the collar around your neck.

“We’ll save the mommy tag for later,” he soothes, running his hands across your neck, fingers gliding down your clavicles to drag down the stiff peaks of your breast.

A small pang of hurt twinges in your chest, but Leon chases it away with pleasure as he teases your nipples with his fingers.

“Thank you, daddy,” you whimper, pressing your chest out so he can tug harder on your nipples.

“You’re very welcome,” he coos, kissing the apple of your cheek, “such a sweet girl for me today.”

“Missed you,” you sigh out as he pinches your sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger, “feels so good.”

“Seem extra sensitive,” Leon murmurs, squeezing your breasts before rolling the hard buds between his fingers until you’re moaning softly.

He ducks his head down to lick across a hard nipple, pressing a kiss on the puckered skin of your areola.

“So sexy,” he groans, hands groping and squeezing the fat of your breasts, fingers tweaking your nipples to watch you shiver, “love playing with your cute tits.”

He latches on to a nipple and groans as he suckles while your fingers tangle in his sandy blonde hair.

“ Daddy ,” you keen in your throat, fingers tugging at his hair as he nips and sucks at your hard buds.

“So good,” he laps the trail of spit dripping off of the swell of your breasts, “can tell you like when I suck your tits, baby.”

You lose yourself to his hot mouth as he licks and sucks at your nipples, his big hands cupping your breasts so he can squeeze them. Shifting in his lap, your cunt leaks slick until it’s soaking your thighs letting you easily rock and grind your mound against his fat dick.

Shifting around, Leon sits with his back against the headboard and pulls you into his lap. You moan as his thick cock parts your pussy lips to grind against your entire cunt.

“Look at you, precious girl,” Leon’s voice oozes praise, making you writhe in his lap, “soaking wet and we’ve barely started.”

“Leon,” you whisper and he hums, eyes still watching as he ruts his cock against your slit.

“C-can you spank my pussy?”

He growls, eyes snapping up to your face, “Yeah? My sweet girl needs her pussy slapped?”

“Uh huh,” you lean back, palms pressed against the tops of his knees to put your slick covered cunt on display right in front of him, “really wanna feel it.”

He groans, gaze flicking down to your twitching clit before dragging back up your body to your needy face.

“Can you stay like that until daddy’s finished?”

You nod your head so fast you're surprised your neck doesn’t hurt.

“Good girl,” he says before bringing the flat of his fingers down onto the hood of your clit.

“Oh god,” you keen, thighs jumping as Leon spanks your clit hard and fast.

Using his other hand, he spreads your pussy lips open so he can spank down on your cunt. After a couple of slaps, each spank of his palm onto your drippy pussy sounds wet and dirty as your hole gushes slick down your ass to drip onto the bed.

“Daddy’s so lucky to have a girl like you, isn’t he, baby?” Leon smirks up at your panting form, “listen to how much your pussy’s missed me.”

“Need you so bad,” you gasp brokenly, humping forward every time Leon slaps your pussy, “please, daddy, want you so much.”

Giving one last rough smack on your clit, he uses his already damp palm to cup your soaked mound.

“I think she’s wet enough that you can sit this sweet pussy down onto my cock,” he smiles, a smug little curve of his mouth that makes your cunt throb, “c’mon, now.”

Nodding, you shakily raise back up into his lap and kneel above his thick length as he drags the head through your wet folds. Pressing the tip into your hole, you both moan as you slowly work his dick deeper and deeper into your clenching heat.

Once he’s balls deep inside you, it makes your pussy clamp down on his fat cock like a vice.

“Baby, you’re going to make me cum,” he grunts in your ear, hands moving up to cup your breasts.

“Not yet, please,” you mewl, “can I sit here just like this?”

Leon groans low in his throat, “Yes, cockwarm me in that tight little pussy. Bet she’s missed daddy’s cock stuffed into her hole, huh?”

You nod quickly, “Missed you so much, ‘m all stretched out.”

He presses his thumb on the hood of your clit and pulls back, showing off the swollen and wet sensitive bundle of nerves. Lightly running his middle finger over your clit, he teases the pudgy bud until you grind down hard into his lap.

“So good, daddy,” you moan, nails digging into his twitching stomach muscles.

He uses his other hand to wrap around your waist, helping you grind your slick pussy onto his thick cock. You slowly pull yourself halfway up his thick length then let yourself drop down on his lap, whimpering as his drippy tip kisses your cervix.

“Don’t push yourself,” he rumbles low in his throat, dragging his fingers against the hood of your slippery clit as his dark eyes stare you down with an unidentifiable emotion.

“I won’t,” you promise softly as tears gather at your lash line, “want you to stretch me on your big cock, want to make you feel good, daddy. Wanna take care of you.”

“My sweet girl,” he soothes, lifting your hips and slowly sinking you back down onto his cock, walls fluttering until he’s buried deep inside of you.

You gasp trying to swallow air as he bullies in and out of your spasming pussy at a slow dragging pace.

“Let me take care of you for now,” he murmurs, eyes dropping down to the collar decorating your neck, “all you have to do is take it, sweetheart.”

“Oh, daddy ,” you moan, hands scratching across his abs, thighs spasming as they squeeze around his hips.

Leon groans and fucks up into your sopping wet cunt, making your breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts while your mouth gapes open as you draw in haggard breaths.

“My pretty perfect girl just needs daddy taking care of her, huh?” his grip on your hip becomes bruising as he teases your clit softly with the other before moving that hand up to tug on a hard nipple.

“Uh huh,” you squirm on his lap, clit throbbing for him to touch you again, “daddy takes such good care of me.”

He hums and keeps teasing your nipples before reaching up to loop a finger through the front of the collar, “You’re going to let me handle everything from now on.”

You nod jerkily, dislodging Leon’s hand from your collar making him drag his hand back down to your swollen clit. He surges up to messily lick past your lips, sucking on your tongue before filling your mouth with his own. Pulling away, he messily kisses down to your neck, teeth sinking into the skin above your collar making you whimper and rock down against him.

“Daddy, s’good,” you mewl wantonly, nails scratching along his pecs making him buck harder into you.

“I know,” he croons, making your cunt clench around his dick, “mmm, you and that cute pussy love the way daddy takes care of you.”

Whining, you bounce your ass faster, feeling dizzy with want at the low possessive tone coloring Leon’s voice.

He picks up the pace, cock thrusting up into you harderand harder , grinding against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt every time he slips inside. He moves the hand gripping your waist around to grasp the fat of your ass, helping you bounce on his dick. The other continues to rub your pudgy clit with soft barely there touches that drives your arousal higher.

“Leon,” you moan, pussy clenching down on his thick cock, eyes fluttering as the pleasure builds.

“Are you getting close, sweet girl?” he coos, “this pretty little pussy keeps getting tighter and tighter. Needed this so badly, didn’t she?”

“Yes, yes!” You moan, hips stuttering and messing up your rhythm, “daddy, please, ‘m so close!”

“I’ve got you,” he slips out of your soaked cunt and eases you down onto your back, the sheets warm against your skin from Leon’s imprint.

Spreading your thighs, he kneels between your legs and guides his fat dick back into your twitching hole. His eyes watch your pussy greedily suck his cock back in with every short thrust until his pelvis is flush against yours.

He grabs your legs and places them over his shoulders, letting him lower himself down, forearms boxing in your head. You gasp out a whimper as the new angle has Leon’s cock pressed up against your cervix. He waits a beat and you slowly relax your tense muscles as that sharp bite of pain transforms into pleasure.

“That’s my girl,” he kisses the apple of your cheeks before taking your lips in a sloppy spit filled kiss that makes your pussy clamp down on his cock, “daddy’s good girl.”

“‘m yours,” you choke on a gasp as he pulls out to bully his dick back into your warm wet cunt, “my pussy’s yours. All of me is yours.”

Leon’s hips rabbit into your squelching pussy as he groans at your, unknown to you, damning words.

“Say it again,” he growls down at you, hands squeezing your thighs as he keeps you pressed open for his hungry gaze.

“I belong to you. ‘M all yours, daddy,” you babble up at him, tears sticking to your lashes causing them to clump together, “you make me feel so good.”

“Perfect, fucking perfect,” he mutters before rocking his hips down, “going to take such good care of you, keep you safe, give you everything you ever need.”

“Jus’ need you,” you slur as his tip hammers against your g-spot sending sparks of pleasure buzzing through your body.

“Please, Leon— daddy ,” your nails score down his back making him grunt, “w’nna cum, want you to cum in me.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans, roughly flicking his thumb on your clit as he grinds into your pussy.

“Going to make you cum for me, baby,” he kisses you again, nipping your bottom lip, “daddy wants to feel you cream all over his cock.”

You shudder as he spanks the first two fingers of his hand down onto the hood of your clit.

“Oh, oh, god,” you toss your head back, body thrashing against the bed, “I’m gonna cum, daddy. You’re gonna make me cum .”

He bites your neck just as his fingers swipe your pudgy clit, tipping you over the edge and sending your hips arching off the bed as pleasure washes over your body. Your walls pulse and flutter around his cock making Leon groan and snap his hips into you harder.

“Feels so good — fuck ,” he groans, burying his cock deep inside your spasming cunt and cumming, hot jizz coating your walls.

His thrusts begin to stutter while he fills your used cunt with rope after rope of thick sticky cum. You feel his cock throb and kick inside your fluttering walls as your pussy keeps milking him for every last drop of cum. He grunts while he continues to finish inside of you.

“There’s so much,” you whisper, loving the feeling of being so full of Leon.

“I’ve been a little backed up, sweetheart,” he kisses you, all dirty and wet, while he finishes stuffing you to the brim.

You sigh when he slowly pulls out, Leon hissing at the sensation. He lays down next to you, pulling you into his arms as you both catch your breaths.

“Thank you,” you tilt your head up to kiss his jaw, “you waited for me and I appreciate it.”

His sea dark eyes watch you as his lips tic up into a little smile.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he kisses the top of your head.

You hum, pleased, and tangle your legs with his, “Can we have dinner later? I’m really tired now.”

“Mmhmm,” he runs his fingers down your back, muscles twitching as you relax even further against him.

It doesn’t take long for you to pass out, snuggled against Leon’s warm chest as he pets you softly.

═════ °• ♔ •° ═════

After you fall asleep, Leon slips away, tugging the blankets up around your naked shoulders before leaving the bedroom. He makes his way downstairs to his office and pulls out the burner phone hidden in a secret drawer of his desk.

He quickly dials a number and drums his fingers along the wood desktop as he waits. A familiar voice finally picks up.

“I’m calling you back,” Leon grins to himself, idly tracing his fingertips across his desk.

“Yeah, everything’s good here. This time next year I think I can talk her into selling the place and we’ll move south, somewhere with a beach I think.”

The voice chatters away on the other line making Leon laugh.

“You’re not wrong. I just can’t believe some complete stranger beat me to the punch,” he frowns down at his knuckles, “kind of wanted to take her out myself for the hell of it, but this way my hands are 100% clean. And it won’t look strange to keep my sweet stepdaughter in my care.”

His blue eyes dart to the closed door as he lets the other man on the line talk.

“Mmhmm. I was just checking in to see if everything’s been taken care of in regards to the father.”

He nods along, the grin blooming into a smirk, “Excellent. No, no need to get rid of him unless he proves to be an obstacle. Sounds like he’s making himself scarce without any prompting which is great.”

Chancing a quick glance to the clock on the wall, he stands up from his desk.

“Great work as usual. I’ll wire the money into the account tonight.”

He hangs up the phone and quickly disassembles it; he runs a magnet over each piece before dropping it all into a small bowl of water he kept off to the side earlier in the evening. Tomorrow, he’ll get rid of it completely but for now he’d rather rejoin you upstairs.

He lets himself daydream about your new life together as he double checks that everything is locked up tight before retiring for the night. Your mom’s death wasn’t planned, at least not in a sense, so it put a bit of a wrench into his plans. However, everything has worked out wonderfully in the long run. Your deadbeat dad is too busy with his own life to give you the time of day leaving Leon the one person you rely upon.

He’s been patiently waiting all of this time, letting you grieve and navigate the death of your mother without his interference, only to reap the benefits now. The way you’re reacting and behaving gives him complete confidence that he’ll be the only one in your life from now on; months from now, when he asks you to be his second wife far away from this place, he’s positive you’ll say yes.

Entering the bedroom, he takes in your sleeping form underneath the sheets and feels that same old hunger stir in his chest. He climbs back into bed and spoons your body from behind. Feeling his cock thicken against your ass, he slips his dick between your thighs, still damp from the activities earlier. Rutting slowly, he gently fucks your thighs as you sigh and squirm in your sleep.

Reaching around, his hands grope your breasts, fingers quickly tweaking and tugging on your puffy nipples.

“Daddy?” Your groggy voice just makes him harder and he rocks forward a little more roughly.

“Just needed to touch you,” he bites your neck and you clamp your thighs together making him groan.

“Inside,” you whine, “please.”

“Shhh,” he nips your ear, “let daddy have his fun.”

Shivering, you moan as Leon teases your nipples while he fucks his cock against your leaking pussy, plush thighs squeezing him just right. As much as he wants to slip right into your hot pussy, he likes making you beg for it.

It’s a slow back and forth as he plays with your tits and makes you soak his cock with slick before he teases the tip against your hole. He’ll never get tired of this, of having you so soft and malleable, all for his enjoyment.

“Oh, please, daddy, please,” you pant, hips pressing back against his, “need you to fuck me, need to feel you so bad.”

Smug satisfaction drips like honey down his spine as he slides the tip of his cock into your soaked hole. He hisses through clenched teeth as your cunt greedily sucks his cock further into your sticky wet walls. Once he bottoms out, he notices how much noise you’re making, cut off little whimpers and moans that has his cock kicking inside your snug cunt.

“ Thank you, thank you, thank you ,” you chant under your breath, bolstering his already inflated ego.

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs against your ear, feeling you clamp down around his dick.

It’s almost too easy he thinks while he thrusts his cock in and out of your squelching pussy. It’s obvious to anyone that you were meant for him, meant for this. Gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, he picks up the pace, fucking into you so hard and fast that you can only gasp and whine.

Reaching around, his fingers circle your clit firmly until your pussy’s clenching rhythmically around his cock as you cum.

“There we go,” he whispers in your ear, “cum on my cock, squeeze daddy’s dick so he can fill you up again.”

He lets you ride it out for a moment before hammering his dick into your spasming pussy. It doesn’t take too long with the way your cunt’s milking his cock for him to spill hot and thick inside your needy pussy for the second time that night.

You sigh happily as he paints your pussy walls white with his sticky cum until it’s dripping out around his cock. Pulling out, he grunts to see globs of jizz ooze from your used pussy.

“My perfect girl,” he kisses the back of your head.

“Mmhmm,” you murmur sleepily, drifting off before he can even clean you up, “love you, Leon.”

His lips twitch up into a wicked grin, “Love you too, beautiful.”

Getting up out of bed, he heads to the en suite bathroom to grab a damp cloth. He returns and gently cleans you up, feeling nothing but pride as he takes in the collar still cinched around your neck. Tossing the washcloth into the hamper, he makes his way back to you. He pulls you into his chest, feeling elated when you snuggle up underneath his chin.

You press a soft feathery kiss against his pecs and hum before drifting into a deeper sleep. Running a hand down your back, a feeling of possessive ownership flares up in his chest. His fingers drift up to the collar, softly rubbing against the clasp. He’ll need to buy you an everyday one now, something that shows you’re all his. Maybe something with his initials. He’ll have to see how you react to the idea first. Dropping his hand to your shoulder, his pinky brushes against the collar and he feels his cock twitch against his thigh.

Deciding to let you sleep a little more before waking you up for a late dinner, he idly traces patterns against your bare skin. This is what it’s going to be like from now on he thinks with almost giddy anticipation. And regardless of what happens from here on out, he knows you’re his forever more.

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy smut #dark stepdad!leon s kennedy #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #stepcest #dldr #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #au #dark stepdad!leon x fem!reader #dark stepdad!leon x fem!reader smut

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lesbolieeh · 1 year

Text

Jelly (m)

Bratty!Sub!Tzuyu ✦ Dom!F!Reader

WC—5.4 ✦ k

WARNING—69 ✦ oral sex ✦ face-sitting ✦ begging ✦ teasing ✦ stripping ✦ praise ✦ tzuyu being the cutest fkn girl out there ✦ light degradation ✦ light hair pulling ✦ mommy kink ✦ baby girl kink ✦ ft. Sana x Miyeon, Lisa x Jennie

THEMES—smut ✦ new relationship au ✦ jealousy

NOW PLAYING—Only Girl (In The World) ✦ god

[A/N.] I hope u guys like the new look<3

M.LISTS—twice ✦ latest updates ✦ read on wp

✦ ੈ ✦ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✦‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✦ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✦‧₊˚＊* ✦ ੈ ✦ ੈ ✦ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✦‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✦ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✦‧₊˚＊* ✦ ੈ ✦

"I have a mommy kink."

Tzuyu liked it when you called her Babygirl so it shouldn't be too much of a stretch to call you Mommy, right? She turned her head and looked at you, grinning as if you were joking. After a few seconds of not getting a similar reaction back, her mouth gaped out of shock. "Or to be more specific, I like being called Mommy," you attempted to get her out of her trance.

When she'd done enough thinking, which was five long seconds, she replied in the brattiest voice ever, "You're not my mother." Of course, it sucked a bit that you weren't into the same kink but you two shared a lot of other kinks so it was OK. It's impossible to had the exact same kinks as someone else anyway. At least she didn't act weird around you because of it.

But your sex dynamic was affected by this incident. Usually Tzuyu could get a bit shy to initiate sex and would rather hint at it by keeping eye contact for a long time when holding your hand or by resting her head on your boobs when you were cuddling or giving a quick kiss to your neck and blush. All of a sudden she got bratty, mostly by using your kink against you, like whenever you were clumsy and accidentally walked into a table or dropped a chopstick, she'd clap her hands and sarcastically sad "Good job, Mommy".

But this meant you two found a new kink together; punishments. You progressively introduced kinkier punishments from overstimulating her to edging her to blindfolding her. It was almost as if telling her about your Mommy kink (that she didn't reciprocate) opened up new doors for you to explore kinks especially Tzuyu would've been too shy to tell you about. Truthfully, finding new kinks together was such a fun activity and even if you two explored something that you didn't necessarily end up liking, the intimacy of the activity made up for it and you could just give each other head and orgasm anyway. However, Mommy still wasn't one of the kinks you two explored at all in bed and that would always be in the back of your mind. But as long as you two had fun it didn't matter if she called you Mommy or not.

Later.

"How does it feel?" you jumped with a smile, your girlfriend's hands in yours.

"I'm excited since you've told you so many stories about them and it's a bigger step in our relationship but I'm also a bit nervous," Tzuyu said a small, smiling in pain.

"Awww, Baby, I like you so they will like you too, don't worry. As long as you don't mention that you hate mint chocolate ice cream I think it'll be fine," you kissed her hands and pulled her into a hug.

The hug calmed down her nerves but she was still nervous. It was impossible not to since she was always a bit awkward when meeting new people and this time the new people were your extroverted friends so she felt pressure to come across as likable to them. Knock, knock! They'd arrived. You opened the door.

"Miyeon! The blonde hair fits you so well," you said when you saw her blonde hair.

She flipped her hair, "I know right~"

She threw herself at you in a needy hug and whined out, "____, I've missed you sooo much." Miyeon can be a very touchy person with her close friends and that's one of her best traits but it can be a less good one in a situation where you're in a relationship and your partner isn't aware that the girl acts like that around all her best friends.

Therefore Tzuyu stands there awkwardly, breathing quickening, looking at an attractive girl latch onto her girlfriend like a leech. You could hear Miyeon making exaggerated smelling sounds, which was weird until she uttered "I missed your smell! You smell like something I can't describe. Hmm fruity."

You laughed at her weird behavior while Tzuyu just stood there, watching silently. Your arms squeeze extra hard for a moment just to be a little more dramatic when you said you had missed her too.

You let go of the hug and turned to the second friend.

"Omg hi Sana!" you eye-smile back to the woman who already held her arms out to hug you.

"_____! Missed you," she said with a muffled voice from her burying her face in your neck.

Your girlfriend turned her gaze to the ground, finding her feet more interesting than the scene in front of her. Fuck, she's pretty too. Tzuyu was rarely this intimidated when she met new people, but the two women had known you for much longer than she had, and they felt so comfortable with showing affection towards you — and the fact they were so pretty did not help.

But there was one more person who was hiding behind the door that you didn't know of. Out she jumped from behind the door, "Hiii!"

"LISA!" your smile grew, not having seen her in almost a month.

You pulled her into a hug, "I didn't expect to see you! I thought you were going on a trip to Laos!"

"As if I would miss meeting my favourite person! Actually I'm going tomorrow instead," Lisa smiled.

"You know I missed you like crazy, right?"

Tzuyu frowned.

"I missed you too," you said with a pout of guilt as you looked down at Lisa.

"ANYWAY, this my girlfriend!" you turned to her with a smile, not having detected any jealousy yet. "Tzuyu, this is Sana, Miyeon and Lisa."

"H-Hi..." Tzuyu said with insecurity as visible as a watermelon in a pumpkin patch.

"Hello," the oldest girl said loudly as she reached out to shake her hand. The tense girl next to you took the other's hand and shook it, probably wetting it with sweat.

"_____ has told us a lot about you," Miyeon said with a friendly smile which had the opposite effect than intended.

"Why did you steal ____ from us?" the remaining girl asked as she crossed her arms, with an aegyo angry pout.

"I—" your girlfriend tried to form a sentence and looked at you for help when she failed.

"I was just joking," Lisa smiled and winked at Tzuyu playfully.

That worked, Tzuyu smiled back.

2h later.

"Now I understand why she got with you! Like, you're cool, Bro," Lisa laughed and high-fived Tzuyu while she blushing slightly with pride because of the compliment, but also at the mention of her lover.

During the past few hours, Tzuyu and your best friends had bonded. Sana, Miyeon and Lisa were great talkers and they had made Tzuyu feel comfortable in their company enough to have courage to hang out with the three of them without you when you made food for everyone (which meant a lot because she expected to be next to you the whole day to not be awkward and embarrass herself by stuttering and shit).

"How does the TV work?" Miyeon asked Tzuyu since this was technically her apartment.

"I don't know," Tzuyu felt a little flustered for not knowing how to use her own TV. But in her defense you two usually watched Netflix on her phone laying in bed together and not on a TV sitting on the sofa together.

"Forget what I said about you being cool before," Lisa joked.

"_____!" Sana called out.

Nothing.

"PLEASEEE, Mommy, WE NEED YOUR HELP," she yelled with a nice tone.

That action sent Tzuyu in a state of shock for a few seconds. Why did Sana call ____ Mommy? Soon "Mommy" showed up and asked tiredly "What do you want help with, Sana?"

Slowly a bad feeling crept inside of Tzuyu. What the fuck. Why is she acting so indifferent? Sana literally called her Mommy! Another girl shouldn't be calling her that. How the fuck does Sana even know of _____'s kink?

By the time Tzuyu stopped drowning in her thoughts, you had already helped with the TV and Miyeon was looking through Netflix. "Can you please get you a blanket, Mommy?" the devil on Earth, also known as Sana, asked Tzuyu's girlfriend with a cute voice on purpose and made grabby hands.

Bitch.

Tzuyu looked at you, not sure what she was expecting or hoping you to do. And then you were gone. Yes! She just left her hanging! Fuck yes— Suddenly Tuzyu's thoughts were interrupted again when she saw you...with a fluffy, red blanket in your hand.

"Thanks, Mommy," Sana exaggerated the title once again, making your girlfriend's face turn red.

"Don't interrupt me again, folks, or else food will be burnt and you'll have air for dinner," you warned before you went back to cooking the food that might or might not be ruined already.

Tzuyu tried to act like nothing happened when Miyeon turned on RuPaul's Drag Race on the TV. But it was very hard. Tzuyu's thoughts kept racing so she decided to confront that shitbag.

"Why did you call her Mommy?" Tzuyu asked bluntly, not caring about sounding rude.

"_____? Oh, well, I always do that when I want her to do me—"

Tzuyu clenched her fists. This fucker—

"—a favour and it always works!"

"Yeah, ____ probably loves being called that," Miyeon commented looking at Tzuyu.

"But you probably know that already," Lisa's eyebrows danced up and down.

"Can you get us sodas, please? Mommy~" Miyeon called out.

For the rest of the night it seemed like Tzuyu's social battery had run out.

Days later.

Tzuyu had been acting a bit cold towards you for the past couple of days and you didn't know why but you suspected it had to do with meeting your friends since that's around the time she distanced herself. You had texted her to meet up (because you wanted to talk to her about this) and, thankfully, she quickly replied to one of your texts (you had expected her to ignore it for a few hours at least).

Come to my place.

You didn't know what to expect but you put on a nice outfit, which consisted of a skirt with a zipper that went all the way down to the end paired with an oversized T-shirt. Before you knew it you were standing outside her door. Knock, knock!I If you two weren't having problems right now you'd just use your key (that she'd given you weeks ago) to just open the door without knocking but due to not communicating that well lately you were not sure if you were allowed to do that anymore and you didn't want to overstep her boundaries.

The walls were thin, so much that you could hear whenever a neighbor flushed the toilet, so you expected to hear her footsteps to let you know she was going to open the door but... nothing. Is she gonna ignore my existence this way too...?

When you realized that she might not have heard you you took a leap and went for the door handle and walked in.

"Tzuyu?" You said out loud, waiting for her to show up.

With no response you started getting worried.

"Tzuyu? Baby?" you called out her nicknames, hoping it'd show her you were coming with peace and love to solve your problems, not to argue.

"Here," you heard her beautiful voice coming from the direction of the living room.

After you hung up your jacket and took off your shoes, you slowly followed her voice. Walking into the living room you didn't expect to see the sight you were met by. There she was. Your girlfriend, Tzuyu, laying on her stomach on the sofa, facing the TV...

Naked.

Plump butt, godly thighs, muscular back, honey smooth and colored skin...all on display for you.

Confused about why she was naked when we were supposed to talk, you asked her with a light tone, "What happened? Why are you...naked?"

She turned her face to you and put her cheeks on the armrest of the sofa with a pout, "I hurt myself!"

Your protective nature kicked in, immediately getting worried, and asked her where she hurt herself. She sat up and spread her legs, exposing yet another surprise. That surprise being her throbbing, red pussy with wetness dripping down her thighs. She whines, "I walked into a table."

The view of your girlfriend laying naked, so wet and with a cute pout for the most innocent' reason was one of the sexiest things you'd seen in your whole life...and it was also making you unconsciously clench. You were not sure what to say since you were not expecting to see her in this state, so stayed quiet. If you were shocked before, you were speechless when you heard the next sentence coming from her delicate lips...

"Can you kiss it better? Please, Mommy, it really hurts so, so much," she asked, still with the innocent pout as if she was not a kinky masochist. For some people that might sound like just a very dirty sentence, but for you it sounded like the gates to the heaven of sins had opened. This flipped the switch from worried-about-your-relationship mode to let-me-take-care-of-my-lover mode. You didn't need to give her an answer, you simply walked over to the sofa and looked down at her.

"My safeword is moonlight. What's your safeword?"

"Sunrise," she answered.

From seat on the sofa, she felt small and submissive compared to your tall self standing in front of her looking down at her with a powerful aura. Crouching down to the same level as her pussy, you looked at her and saw her staring at you while breathing loudly. Smirking, you brought your face closer to her and stopped a few centimeters away.

"Where exactly did you hurt yourself, Baby?" you asked her teasingly, making her groan.

"Everywhere, Mommy. Everywhere. Kiss me everywhere, please," she begged, although she was sexually frustrated she tried to sound composed.

"Please, Ma—" you interrupted her from her begging by putting your middle finger on her slit lightly.

Looking up at her, you could see her eyes glistening with curiosity, mouth slightly agape from where her sentence stopped. Her pussy was pulsing from resisting to masturbate for the last three or so hours. You placed a tiny kiss on her clit and heard a small, flustered whine escape her mouth. She must've denied herself for a long time before you'd arrived if she was this sensitive.

"Waited for me instead of touching yourself? What a good girl you are, Baby," you said proudly before you started placing light kisses all over her pussy, making it, if possible, even redder than before.

"I'm Mommy's good girl," she barely let out, having a hard time speaking. She wanted to be claimed by you. She wanted you to know that she was dedicating herself to you, even going as far as not touching her aching pussy for hours, getting uncomfortably wet, letting it run down her thighs. She wanted you to know that she wanted to be a good girl for you.

The kisses were light and so small yet they made her high on ecstasy. With satisfaction visible in your eyes you started licking gently on her outer lips, making her groan louder and instinctively close her eyes. After a few seconds she opened them again and asked for another request "Mommy, can you sit on your face? Please?"

She wanted to please you too. Your baby wasn't completely selfish. "I don't want you to sit on the carpet."

"Why not?" You asked her to get on her nerves a little bit more than you already had.

"Your knees will get red, the carpet's so uncomfortable. And you told me my cheeks are soft so you should sit here, Mommy," she pointed at her face, showing you where you should sit.

"My pretty girl," you said and kissed her button nose, making her flash her beautiful smile.

You wanted to sit there, until I remembered the fact that she'd ignored you for these past two days. So you decided that teasing her was what she deserved. You stood up. She immediately laid down on the sofa, excited. You smiled at her enthusiasm. And then you sat down...

...on her chest, not her face. Close yet far. Hearing her complaining behind your back, motivated you to start licking her, maybe that would shut her up. But no. It didn't. Instead she let out more moans, letting you know that you were pleasing her but it was also her way of trying to make you wetter since she knew your weakness was her pleasure. You twirl your tongue around her clit lightly and got a high-pitched moan in return. You loved it. Her clit was her most sensitive part and she didn't know if she should be happy that you were making her feel good or if she should be complaining that she will come too early if you keep your attention on her clit for too long. With a smile you gave a small suck to her clit and the moans leaving her mouth went straight to your core. You started adding a little more pressure to her clit, not too much though, she brought her hands to your thighs and rubbed them gently up and down. That was OK until her fingers found their way to the edge of your skirt, slowly and sneakily trying to pull it up your legs.

"What are you doing?" you asked fast, sending vibrations that made her twitch. You quickly went back to worshiping her pussy, not wanting to leave her unattended for more than a few seconds. Grunts of pleasure are heard from the woman under you, yet she miraculously finds a way to talk.

"Mommy, you smell so good. Can I taste? Please," she said in between low moans.

How can she care so much about your pleasure in a moment when she's so pleased?

"A good girl who asks so nicely deserves to be rewarded."

Her face lit up at the thought of getting to eat you out; it's been her wish to do this for a while now. These past few weeks you've mostly focused on making her cum over and over again and although she made you cum too it had mostly been from her fingering you or you riding her thigh, not much cunnilingus. With smooth hands she touched you from the ankles beside her head up to the thighs that are hidden under the material of your skirt. She loves feeling you up. Especially, getting to feel your thighs under your skirt. It felt like she was doing something naughty; being in contact with skin hidden under fabrics, something nobody else could touch... She felt like a bad girl.

Confidence and curiosity made her tug the damned skirt and jerk it upwards until she could see the ivy blue panties you had on with a big dark patch covering the entrance to paradise, revealing how turned on you had gotten already. Her Mommy was wet for her. You moved your pussy further back until you could feel her hot breath on it through your panties. As soon as her mouth was close enough, she happily put the fabric to the side, so she could get to your wetness, and started kissing it. She kissed it smoothly and slowly, showing how much she appreciated you, since she rarely got to show you in this particular way.

Unlike her, you started going rougher. Sucking her clit harder, but not too harsh, and humming against her, sending wonderful vibrations. She kept whining and turning you on more so you started moving your tongue from her clit and licking between her lips too. Everything for your girl. She began to chant your name sinfully and dove her silky tongue inside you too, trying to return the favour as best as she could when she was moaning. Her moans were so addicting. She had this specific type of moan that sounded like a mixture between a sad whine and a woman getting fucked by another woman for the first time. She moaned so angelically it was as if she were singing.

She licked deeper between your folds, though her moans were getting louder and making it harder for her to focus, she really wanted you to cum first. For hours she'd been trying to restrain herself from touching herself at the thought of what you two were going to do tonight. She couldn't keep herself from thinking about it; it wasn't her fault that her girlfriend was the sexiest woman she'd ever met and that the thought alone of pleasing her was enough to make her pussy clench and get wet.

But what you were doing together right now was nowhere near her fantasy. This was way better than she ever could've predicted and she's really creative and has a huge imagination, which said a lot. To actually experience this was so much harder than fantasizing about it. She'd been restricting herself from cumming since before your tongue even met her sensitive skin.

Suddenly your skirt that was curled up on your thighs sank down and barricaded Tzuyu's head, not letting the cold oxygen from the room get in, which made her even hotter. Her hair was sticking to her forehead and her hands were cupping your ass, grabbing and playing with the thick flesh.

You could sense that she was on the verge of cumming, making you smile. You wanted her to cum, she deserved it and you had missed making her cum these past two days. "Baby, cum for me," you said against her skin, blowing on it to make it cooler and make her shiver.

"Wanna wait for you, Mommy," she moved her lips against you softly.

"But, Babygirl, you've been waiting for me for so long. You've been treating you like the queen I am. You deserve to cum," you encouraged her.

"Do it, Babygirl. Your cum is my pleasure," you whispered against her and sucked on her clit lightly.

All this praise was too much for her, she couldn't hold it in anymore so she finally let go, her legs shaking, you held them down. You kept on licking all over her pussy, not to overstimulate her or make her cum again, but just to savour the taste of her cum. Looking back you saw that your skirt has surrounded her and you couldn't see her face when she licked you so you lifted yourself off of her up and sat up on your knees.

With her tongue out in the air she looked disappointed and confused, "But you haven't cum yet."

You smirked at her cuteness and brought your hand to hold her cheek softly, "Be patient, Babygirl."

She was a little impatient now.

"You're gonna get it soon," you chuckled lightly at her eagerness for you to cum.

When your hand left her cheek and your steps took you a few meters away from her, she got confused again but kept quiet, waiting for what you'd do. You turned to her and watched her longing face as she laid there beautifully, looking like an angel yet like a sinner. Without breaking eye contact you dropped your panties and her mouth opened more than before. You were putting a spell on her. You were like an enchantress with power over her mind, body and soul. She was like a puppet with the strings you had the control of. She was aware of it. And she absolutely loved it.

Walking over to her with your mighty aura made her gulp, she had no idea of what you had in store for her. But she really wanted to see you drop some more garments. Then you sat on her chest again but this time with your front facing Tzuyu, making the girl gulp again with anticipation as she looked down at your wet pussy. "I just wanted to see your pretty face when I ride it," you said innocently, looking at her blush. Fuck, she was always so pretty when she blushed.

She watched as you made a knot on your shirt (you didn't want the shirt to cover her face like the skirt had done before). "Show me, please," she begged with her needy voice, having expected you to take off your shirt or at least uncover your boobs for her.

"Let's see if your tongue is worth it, Babygirl." There was no chance she was not witnessing a strip tease and your golden body. As if on cue, she went back to kissing your folds, keeping your eyes locked, wanting to see your reaction to every single trick she was going to pull out. She explored your body with her hands on your legs and stomach since she hadn't had the opportunity last time you fucked when her hands were tied above her head. You loved how she was so affectionate and could make sex romantic by an action as simple as holding your hand and looking into your eyes. To many people, eye contact during oral sex was all about power but to you two it was also about intimacy. You smiled down at her.

Soon she started licking on your folds, not yet moving between them or on your clit, she wanted to care for you and behold up your excitement — and it worked. Although she hadn't given you cunnilingus in so long, she was so damn skilled with her tongue and reading your body language.

You started touching her hair, putting it away from her face while still looking at her to motivate her. She licked between your folds and a stray groan escaped your mouth. She took it as a clue to keep it going, making more groans leave your mouth. You grinded on her face, which formed a confident smile on it, making Tzuyu's tongue go deeper in you. "Fuck, that feels so good, Baby."

When her tongue accidentally came in contact with your clit you moaned louder. Kisses were peppered on your sensitive bundle of nerves, sending shivers down your spine that made you arch your back. She was the type of pussy eater to not just lick but also kiss. Smiling at your reaction, she started going back and forth between kissing and licking your pussy. One kiss, one lick. Two kisses, two licks.

"Good girl," you praised her, zipped down your skirt and tossed it away in a random corner of the room, making your girlfriend whine against you.

She put her hands on your knees, that were on each side of her shead, in an innocent matter...until she moved her hands up your thighs and stopped at your ass, kneading each stretch marked cheek in each hand. "Hey! No touchy-touchy—" you were interrupted by your lover's magic hands pushing you into her face deeper, making you moan louder than before.

With loud moans escaping your mouth uncontrollably you grabbed a fistful of her wet hair. She liked it; it was rough and showed that you fucking loved what she was doing. "So desperate to see me naked?" you ask her as teasingly as possible when you were grunting.

She responded by vibrating "mhm" against your clit, making you pull her hair harder. As you grabbed the edges of your shirt, you saw her big eyes full of lust. When you pulled the shirt up and threw it away with an evil smile she whined in annoyance. You were wearing a lace bralette. A wine red one because fuck matching underwear. She wanted to see more. With the desire to make you cum and show your all for her, she put her cute lips on your clit and suckled a bit harder than before. Her desperation down there made you scream out loud.

"You're doing so well for me, Babygirl. Make Mommy proud."

As she kept pleasuring you, you decided she should be rewarded. She had earned a reward by now. The sound of you unclipping your bralette made her doe eyes twinkle with penchant. She took one of her hands away from your butt and put two fingers inside you to push you even faster to the edge. The other hand she brought up to cup your right boob with. You were on the verge of cumming. She noticed and started pinching your nipple. Fuck. She knew you so well. You couldn't hold it anymore and released your juice. Looking down, you were by her face of accomplishment and pride. She continued licking, but not to bring you to another orgasm but just to taste you some more.

"Thank you for your cum, Mommy," she said, breathing loudly.

You moved away from her face and laid back against the cushions of the sofa.

"Don't leave me, Mommy," she whined lightly at the lack of contact. She moved towards you and rested her head between your boobs. As she laid on top of you and relaxed with her eyes closed, you played with her hair. Maybe I went a little too rough on her cute hair...

You put Netflix on the TV and looked through shows to find something to watch before you went back for round two. You two had seen almost everything on there already. But there was one show you never grew tired of: RuPaul's Drag Race. You'd seen all seasons but rewatching them was still entertaining.

Tzuyu put her chin up on your left tit to look at you, accidentally hurting you in the proces.

"Ouch, that hurts, stop," you told her.

She immediately moved her chin to the middle of your chest instead and apologized "Sorry, Mommy."

No praise made her pout. So she started licking your left nipple lightly while pinching the other. You took her chin between your fingers and lifted her away from your skin and up to face you. "You're so naughty, Baby." If she couldn't get praise she didn't mind getting attention in another way. She smiled.

"I'll go and get us some water," you kissed her before you got up.

"And a blanket for cuddles, please?"

"Everything you need, Baby."

"Also tell Sana, Miyeon and Lisa to stop calling you Mommy, please?"

"Baby, they do it as a joke. You know Sana and Miyeon are dating right? And Lisa has an on-and-off relationship with a girl named Jennie."

"Really? I just thought they were straight besties who kiss and act gay with their friends for no reason!"

You laughed and came back with two glasses of water and the red blanket that Sana had asked for days ago tucked under your arm. "But if it makes you feel uncomfortable then I'll just tell them to stop of course."

Tzuyu laid her head back on your chest the moment your body touched the sofa, "That would be lovely!"

You kissed the top of her head, hugging her body. "Next time you feel jealous or uncomfortable, please tell me rather than acting cold," you pouted at her.

"Sorry, I'll definitely not do that again," she pouted back and kissed your pout.

Your pouts turned into smiles as you snuggled up against each other for another twenty minutes before going back to fucking.

✦ ੈ ✦ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✦‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✦ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✦‧₊˚＊* ✦ ੈ ✦

❝ Make me feel right (uh)

Baby, I'll tell you all my secrets that I'm keeping

You can come inside (yeah)

And when you enter, you ain't leaving

Be my prisoner for the night, oh ❞

—god; 2010

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clownery-and-fuckery · 5 months

Text

Guess what!!!!!! I'm sick!!!!!!!!!!! So I'm giving you guys sick headcannons!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- Crosshair is a whiny cunt. I'm sorry but he is, he never stops complaining and he makes it everyone's problem

- Wrecker is also whiny, but its okay because he hardly gets sick so when he goes down he GOES DOWN.

- ^^ and he's like a superspreader so he gives it to everyone

- Hunter avoids it 70% of the time but when he does get sick he gets ear infections, it's really sad and he has a really bad sick voice

- Echo doesn't get sick. Ever. No one had ever seen him sick before ever- not even when he was with the domino's. Dude is just immune????

- Tech gets sick. He says he doesn't and then he does and then he CRASHES.

- ^^ he sleeps a lot when he's sick

- Echo tried to quarantine them when they were sick on a long mission, and instead of it actually working, the rest of them dropped like flies and Echo had to get them to a medi centre.

- ^^ crosshair gave it to them btw

- omega doesn't get sick either, mostly because she, like echo, is somehow immune??? Sometimes she does though, at the beginning of the series

- then she ate dirt and everything was fine

- wrecker tried eating dirt with Omega, didn't work out too well for him

- Hunter has a dad sneeze

- Tech can't regulate his temperature on a good day, so he's very prone to things like hypothermia/fevers because he simply doesn't realise he's cold/hot

- Cuddle piles happen the most when they're all sick

- Wrecker always demands it saying he "won't get them sick!!!!" But then he does :( and he feels bad

- one time Hunter contracted this HORRIBLE chicken-pox like virus and gave it to EVERYONE- even Echo got it.

- ^^ somehow, Tech didn't???? Idk he's a carrier ig

- Omega drinks contaminated water like its nothing

- echo is the batch nurse most of the time

- ^^ hes really bad at it btw

- one time when Tech was sick Phee was around and he was like

"noo stop you're so gross stop kissing me I'm gonna get you sICK >:(("

- and Phee was like

"nu uh c'mere pretty boy let me kiss your sick away ;))"

- Phee got sick. They shared a bed for a few days ;0

- Hunter didn't approve

- Hunter gets strangely aggressive when he's sick. It's strange because he tends to latch onto one person and hate everyone else

- ^^ most of the time after Crosshair got back, it was him- but for a while it was Wrecker, it rotates

- Crosshair bites when he's sick

- Tech picked up the habit of copying Crosshair when he was sick, only when Tech does get sick, he's too sleepy to actually bite so he bumps his head against whoever's holding him, its the same thing

- wrecker always strips down when he's sick. Echo wasn't expecting it, and he screamed the first time he saw it

- wrecker runs EXTREMELY hot when he's sick, it leads to a lot of bad times but good for Crosshair and Hunter, who are cold as ice when they're ill, so they all snuggle up

- ^^ Tech just flops on top of them, it doesn't matter where he lands

- Phee thinks its VERY CUTE when Tech is poorly mostly because he's like ">:( no way not sick nu uh" but she's lovingly taking over Echo's job at nurse

- ^^ she's not much better at it

- Hunter carries Tech and Cross over his shoulders when they're sick- this is because they both have a collective braincell that tells them it's time to MOVE and be ACTIVE when their bones are like "noo :( eepie"

- Wrecker slurs his words when he's sick :[ he's also very mushy and is an extra worrier when his brothers are sick :((

- kinda a sad one, but Crosshair tends to not eat when he's sick because he's scared of throwing up. He's also scared of watching others throw up. And it's all Wrecker does when he's sick

- it's the worst because sometimes when Tech gets sick, Hunter and Echo have to make him throw up to get whatever it is he caught out of him

- ^^ tech eats things btw. Things he shouldn't eat. He likes to lick the science.

Anyways I love them.

#ill add more later #probably #i HATE being sick #sw the bad batch #tbb tech #phee genoa #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb hunter #tbb echo #had to add some techphee #theyre my beloveds #you understand #tbb omega

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bingbongsupremacy · 10 months

Text

The Letter Pt. 2

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem! reader

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used, Homophobia

Summary: Ellie and Y/N are in two very different social groups at school. One day when Y/N's crush is cruelly exposed in front of the whole school, Y/N is brutally shot down. Finally, four years later the two run into each other again.

(I changed it to four years so reader could go to college)

High School AU

Next part will probably be the last part. I'll probably upload it tmr.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

*****

Ever since the assembly my life turned into hell. Ellie dropped me as a tutor and I was placed with some random guy who constantly reminded me of what happened. Kids snickered in the halls. Certain teachers would shoot me looks of disapproval. Kids I've never talked to stuffed church pamphlets into my locker or invited me to church.

It went on for the last few months of my senior year. Whenever any major event took place, Vivian was sure to point me out in the bleachers and remind everyone what happened.

It got to the point where I stopped going to assembly's

At least I had Dina and Jesse. They stood by me through it all. I don't know what would've happened without them.

Whenever I saw Ellie in the halls I dodged her. If I didn't, she'd clearly talk about me to her friends who'd snicker and agree.

That stupid fucking letter made my life hell.

-----Five Years Later-----

My car beeps as I lock it. I glance up at the familiar bright sign before quickly making my way into the supermarket.

Things have changed.

With one look around I can already tell they remodeled the place. I have no idea where any of the shit Dina sent me to get is.

I guess that's what I get for staying away so long. I honestly didn't plan on coming back but I miss Dina and Jesse. I fell horrible staying away all these years.

The store is mostly empty. I mean, who the fuck wants to be out at 11 o'clock at night.

I look around for one of the workers. There has to be someone here.

A small laugh catches my attention.

A long strip of smoke floats up into the air. As I walk closer to the register I start to notice a smell: weed.

" Um, hey. Can you help me? " I ask, peeking over the side of the register.

A head jumps up in surprise, bumping against the top of the checkout stand. " Fuck. " They mutter in surprise, rubbing their would with the hand not holding the joint.

" Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. "

The woman shakes her head, shoving her phone into her back pocket. She snuffs the joint out. " It's fine. " She reassures me, not looking up. " Just don't call my boss, yeah? Fuck, I can't get another write up. Fucking Kaylee with have my ass. " She mutters.

I smile at her disheveled appearance. She obviously wasn't planning on anyone coming in. " Chill, I'm not a rat. I don't care what you do. I just need some help finding some stuff. It's been a while since I've been here. " I hand her the list.

I glance over her hunched form. She nods. Her hair is messily pulled back into a half up bun. A light green vest covers some band tee.

I glance down at the the register.

My heart stops.

" Ellie? "

The womans' head snaps up in confusion. The confusion soon spreads to surprise. " Y-Y/N? Fuck, is that you? " Her poster straightens and her grip on my list becomes visibly tighter.

Ellie's face looks much more tired then in high school. She looks much more mature.

My emotions hit me like a brick wall. Every angry and sad feeling I went through senior year comes tumbling back. Every mocking sentence and rude word hits me like a ton of bricks. It feels like I'm going through it again.

At the same time seeing her activates the old crush I had. While my heart feels like it's being torn to shreds, my stomach does summer saults.

My jaw tightens and I reach for the paper. " I don't need your help. " I mutter. I'll be damned if I let her into my life again. Even if it's just for a few minutes. " I'll go to another store. "

Ellie steps back, holding my paper away. With a head shake, she responds. " What other store? It's fucking Jackson. We're the only store here. "

She's right. We both know it.

" Then...then I'll just get it myself. Give me my fucking list. " I hold out my hand.

" Can we please talk. " Ellie's brows are furrowed. " I- "

I roll my eyes. " I have no interest in talking to you, Williams. " I snap. " Fine, I'll fucking find everything without it. " I begin walking away.

" Fine! " Ellie's voice trails after me. " Look, you don't have to talk to me. "

Fuck, what the hell did I put on that list? Why the hell did I give it to her? Fuck fuck fuck.

I think I'm supposed to get mayo? Wait no. Why the fuck would I need Mayo?

" All you have to do is listen. Please, Y/N. I know I don't fucking deserve it after what I put you through-what I did, but please. Just give me a few minutes of your time. " Ellie begs.

I turn to the girl. She doesn't look like the confident girl I knew years ago. She looks...regretful?

I sigh. " Fine. You have three minutes. "

A small smile of relief flashes across Ellie's features. " Fuck, thank you. "

I nod stiffly, crossing my arms across my body.

" I was a fucking asshole in high school. " Ellie swallows. " I let my friends dictate the way I acted. All I wanted was to be popular. During Freshman year, I got bullied so I started playing a bunch of sports. I befriended a bunch of jocks and eventually a bunch of other assholes who hung around them. I became one of them. I was so fucking scared of losing my place in the group. " Ellie blushes slightly. She glances up at the ceiling, obviously not proud of what she's telling me.

" Anyways, I did a bunch of fucked up shit to stay with them. What I did to you was by far the fucking worst. " Her green eyes meet mine. " And I'm so fucking sorry. I really am. The day of the assembly Vivian came into the room and took your letter out of your sketch book. She didn't tell me what was in it. I knew it was fucked up whatever she was planning, but I didn't think it'd be that bad. I thought she'd just...I don't know...Show a not so great picture you drew off to the school-which is still a dick move-but I didn't know what she was planning. " Ellie nervously wrings her wrist.

" I'm so fucking sorry, Y/N. I was so cruel to you. So fucking mean. " Ellie looks up at me. " I knew what I was doing was wrong and I still did it. I could've said something to help but I-I didn't. I was a fucking coward and I'm so sorry. I think about it all the time. What if I was you? What if it had been me? What if I had been outed in front of the school? What if people treated me the way they had treated you? What if I treated me the way I treated you? I was so scared people would find out I'm gay. I wasn't ready for people to know. I guess...I guess I thought that if the attention was on you, I could continue sneaking around without people finding out. I can't hide forever though, Y/N. And these past few years I've realized just how bad you had it. I'm so sorry. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I understand if you can't. Honestly, if I were you, I fucking wouldn't. " Ellie's face is red from embarrassment and shame.

She was scared. She was scared of what people would think if they knew she was gay.

" I was scared, Ellie. I was so fucking scared. I didn't want anyone to know either. I never planned on giving you that note. It was a stupid crush. Even though I was scared, I never would've done that shit to you. I never would've talked shit about you in front of my friends or mocked you in public or at games. " I'm so torn. I don't know how I feel.

Ellie nods, closing her eyes. " Fuck, I'm sorry. "

" I don't hate you Ellie. "

" You don't? " Ellie's voice is surprised.

I shake my head. " No. I just don't know if I can trust you. You hurt me so much. "

Ellie thinks for a moment. " Maybe there's a way I can make it up to you. "

I cock my head to the side, slightly skeptical. " How? "

" How long are you in Jackson? " Ellie leans against a shelf.

" About a week, why? " I'm supposed to be hanging out with Dina and Jesse all week.

" Perfect. Give me five days. I promise, I'll fix what I fucked up. If I can't, you never have to talk to me or see me again. I swear to god I will never talk to you again if you want. Just give me a week. " Ellie's gaze is unmoving, much more confident then moments ago.

Should I trust her? What if she does something? Well she did just bare her fucking soul to me.

With a sigh I reply. " Fine. I'll give you a week. "

Tag list: Idk if I missed anyone. Sorry if I did. Lmk if I did or if u want to be tagged in the next part.

@octavias-next-meat-bite @ximtiredx

#fanfic #fanfiction #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader

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taizi · 4 months

Text

where nothing hurts and nothing breaks

one piece word count: 3k written for the its pirates server sake exchange ! my other giftee was @incomprehensi-bull who asked for zoro and sanji interaction. sal i really hope you enjoy this <;3 title borrowed from safe by banners

read on ao3

“Remember,” the pretty girl with tangerine-colored hair says for the fifth time, her smile a fixed, gritted thing on her face, “Sanji is very small right now. The Devil’s Fruit effect isn’t going to wear off for another week at least. If you try to roughhouse with him the way you usually do, he will get hurt, and I will kill you with my hands. Understood?”

“You could try,” the green-haired man replies mildly.

“Why are we leaving Zoro in charge of babysitting again?” the man with the long nose says, to no one in particular. “I mean, we can all agree that this is going to be an absolute disaster, right?”

Zoro scowls, but the skeleton says, “Right,” at the same time the man with the long white hair and bright orange horns says, “I mean, yeah,” and everyone else nods along.

Yonji would have been furious to be made fun of in any capacity. Sanji holds his breath and waits for Zoro to snap at the rest of them, to use his size against everyone smaller than he is, but all he does is lean back against the railing and cross his arms. He looks unbothered to the point of falling asleep standing up.

It’s weird.

“I’m not a baby,” Sanji thinks it’s important to point out. He’s eight years old, which is a lot of years. He thinks his years are longer than most people’s, because he hasn’t felt like the little kid he used to be in ages. That little kid grew up when mama died.

“We know,” the tall woman tells him, her eyes very gentle. She always looks at Sanji like she understands him completely. It’s nice, even if it makes him feel kind of sad. He wonders if she had big brothers who hated her, too, or if it was just her dad. He thinks it wouldn’t be polite to ask, so he doesn’t. “You’re practically a gentleman.”

“Sanji can come shopping with us if he wants!” the reindeer says eagerly. He’s sitting on the robot’s broad shoulder and pats it like he’s inviting Sanji up there, too. They’re both small enough that Sanji could probably fit even without asking the rabbit-girl on the robot’s other shoulder to get down to make room.

Weathered yellow fills his vision as the brim of a worn straw hat slips over his eyes.

“Nope, it’s Zoro’s turn!” the captain replies brightly. That’s Luffy, with a scar under his eye that curves like a smile, and arms that don’t really look strong but can hold Sanji forever without getting tired. Sanji tips the hat back in time to look up at Luffy’s grinning face. “He and Sanji will have fun today and tonight they can tell us all about it!”

Everyone heaves a sigh, but no one argues. Luffy doesn’t throw his weight around like Captain Chas on The Orbit does, but he’s very stubborn in a way that reminds Sanji of the spoiled little kids on the cruise ship who get underfoot at dinner and demand dessert before all their vegetables are gone. In similar fashion, Luffy mostly gets his way because his crew loves him too much to deny him. It’s a strange sort of authority for a pirate captain to have, but it seems to work for them just fine.

Sure enough, Zoro’s shoulders go back just a little, and he levels Luffy with one unblinking dark eye. Accepting the terms and conditions.

Sanji tries not to be nervous. It isn’t fair to compare Zoro and Yonji just because they look similar.

Zoro looks like the kind of person Yonji is going to grow up to be—has grown up to be, somewhere else in this strange future Sanji is living in—and he seems to enjoy scathing arguments as much as Yonji does, too. But he hasn’t hurt anyone smaller than him that Sanji has seen.

In fact, the smallest member of the crew clambers around on Zoro like he’s a walking jungle-gym, and scolds him viciously when he doesn’t take care of himself, and looks up at him with round, bright eyes all the rest of the time. Chopper acts as though Zoro is among the very last people in the world he would ever have cause to fear.

Sanji’s so used to being afraid that he hardly knows how else to be. The people here who call themselves his real family make it hard to be, though. He absorbs their brightness and silliness and fondness every day and slowly learns how to stop holding his breath.

The Sunny is docked for the day at a busy, bustling resort island, with enough lights and billboards that you can see the shine of it for miles across the water. There’s a big map on the wharf, twice as tall as Franky, that notes all the places of interest—shrines up in the mountains, a sprawling sea-side spa to the west, an amusement park further inland, the bright green and yellow loops of a rollercoaster visible above everything else, and hundreds of shops and restaurants scattered all in between.

The Strawhats—that’s who these pirates were, who Sanji himself was, apparently—split up in twos and threes where the road forked but Sanji and Zoro didn’t even make it that far, because there was a market selling produce and all kinds of fresh fish and local goodies right there in the port, and Sanji only had to cast one curious look toward a cart towering with brightly-colored fruits for Zoro to start walking that way. He clears a path for Sanji through the bustling crowd like it’s nothing.

“If you buy more than you carry, don’t cry to me about it,” Zoro says in the same indifferent tone he says everything in.

“I won’t!” Sanji promises, not sure if he means he won’t buy that much or he won’t cry about it.

He was given money—real, actual Bellies—and told in no uncertain terms to come find Nami if he ran out. He doesn’t see how he could! There’s so much in the bag she gave him!

He says as much to Zoro, half-afraid to spend it all just in case it was a mistake. Zoro replies, “Our grocery budget is half of what it usually is while our cook is on vacation. We’re eating simple.” He nudges Sanji’s head with his elbow without taking his hands out of his pockets. “We don’t usually survive off sandwiches and eggs and soup, you know.”

Sanji figured that must be true, because of how grand their ship is, and because his grown-up friends seem to have fun taking turns cooking meals but they’re just clueless enough in the kitchen that it’s obvious they don’t spend a lot of time in there.

“I can cook,” Sanji says for what feels like the hundredth time. “I can cook for all of you.”

“What part of ‘vacation’ did you miss?” Zoro tells him without missing a beat. “Shut up and look at that weird fish.”

Sanji looks before he can help it. That sure is a weird fish! He forgets to keep arguing his case in favor of darting over to ask the fishmonger a dozen rapid-fire questions about their catch that they answer cheerfully.

Contrary to what he said before, Zoro carries all the shopping. The vendors hand the goods over Sanji’s head every time, even though he’s the one forking over the gold for it. The swordsman is very big and strong, and probably all those parcels and purchases weigh absolutely nothing to him, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Sanji tries to imagine Yonji carrying anything for him at all just to be nice. The daydream falls apart instantly, because Yonji only ever took things from Sanji to break them.

“Do you promise you’ll give it back?” he musters the courage to ask, clinging to the cookbook a kind old woman just sold him, unwilling to let it go without making sure. She had smiled and said she was certain her family’s recipes would be in good hands with him and Sanji doesn’t want to prove her wrong before he gets a chance to even try. “You have to promise.”

Zoro gazes down at him with that inscrutable look on his face he’s worn all day. He could probably take the book from Sanji pretty easily but he doesn’t yank it away or twist his wrist until he lets go. They just stand there, sizing each other up. Sanji’s nerves mount with every second but he doesn’t back down.

Yonji would have hurt him already and laughed about it. The first mate of the Strawhat crew simply says, after enough time that Sanji knows he’s taken it seriously, “Promise.”

Surprised, Sanji lets the book go, and watches it get tucked away in an oversized tote bag with the rest of his little treasures. Then Zoro just stands there looking at him, one eyebrow higher than the other, waiting for Sanji to go chasing after the next thing that catches his eye.

Back on the Sunny, Zoro was goaded easily into fights with his friends, and seemed short-tempered any time he wasn’t napping on the grassy deck or drinking from bottles Sanji wasn’t allowed to touch. He didn’t cause problems on purpose, the way Sanji’s younger brother enjoyed doing, but he seemed to have sharp edges and Sanji didn’t know how to get close to him without getting pricked.

But he thinks about how Chopper looks at Zoro. He thinks about the mice in the castle that would run from his siblings but cozy up in Sanji’s hands. Animals know. And then he thinks about the way Luffy trusts Zoro, how he doesn’t have to look to know Zoro will be right where he needs him. Everyone on the crew is quick to tease him and make fun and none of them are scared.

Zoro could have gone with Luffy and the others, but he’s spending the day with Sanji instead. He hasn’t even been mean about it. Sanji abruptly feels really bad about not handing the cookbook over right away.

“My brother has green hair,” he blurts, then stares at the cobblestones beneath his shoes in acute mortification. Why did he say that?

“I know,” the swordsman says, the last thing on earth Sanji expected him to say. “I heard all about your brothers.”

He says it like he’s not impressed by them in the slightest. It’s a weird way for someone to talk about Sanji’s brothers—they’re the best, they’re everything they were supposed to be, and Sanji is the one that went wrong.

Abruptly, Zoro points at a bench. “Go sit. I think your blood sugar is getting low. If you pass out on me, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Sanji finds himself bundled onto the bench with the tote bag in his lap. Zoro set it there as if it was a paperweight that would keep Sanji from blowing off somewhere. That was kind of annoying! Sanji isn’t a baby and he isn’t gonna run off by himself, he’s not stupid.

But the swordsman is only gone for a few minutes when Sanji’s attention is grabbed by something across the street. There’s a grizzled-looking man lounging in the shade of his stall, flicking through what looks like a waterlogged ledger. There are a bunch of crates and cages stacked around him that are empty—except for one.

There’s a distressed bird crammed into a cage so small that it can’t move except to shuffle in place, its head ducked so that its long narrow beak doesn’t hit the bars. It’s making a harsh ticking noise, high and tight and anxious. Sanji shoves the bag off his knees and jumps to his feet, weaving through the crowd and ducking down to his hands and knees before the man behind the stall clocks him. He crawls the rest of the way to the birdcage and lifts it down from the cart into his lap.

The bird stops vocalizing, looking up at him with darting black eyes, its chest heaving. Sanji whispers, “I know how you feel. Let me help.”

But there’s a lock on the cage, and even as Sanji tugs at it, he knows it’s useless. He’s decided to just take the cage away with him when a fist closes in the back of his jacket and he’s hauled all the way off his feet.

He yelps, flailing in midair, and only barely manages not to drop the bird.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” the man asks, sounding more bewildered than angry. He wrenches the cage out of Sanji’s hands and then drops him.

Sanji lands with an oof on the street, and he automatically curls his limbs in, making himself a smaller target. If he tucks his fingers into fists and hides them under his arms, there’s less of a chance his brothers will break them just for fun. He curls his hands into fists but he doesn’t hide them. The fear is in the back of his mind, but it’s not the loudest thing in there. He’s lived on the Sunny for days now where bravery and goodness come before everything and he must have absorbed some of that, because he’s shaking under the sharp eyes of a big, unfriendly stranger, but he still says, “You should let it go.”

“What was that?”

“You’re not taking good care of it,” Sanji says, louder, “so you should let it go.”

The man’s mouth twists in an unkind sneer. “And I should just toss my Bellies into the Blue while I’m at it, eh? That’s not how it works, whelp.”

The bird is moving around in the cage again, making that dry clicking noise again and rucking its orange and blue feathers up in its anxious bid to get free or somehow create more space. Sanji remembers being tossed behind bars, no respite and no rescue and no one left in his life who cared if he was hungry or cold or afraid. He can feel the metal helmet that encased his head as clearly as if it’s still there. He remembers crying so hard it made him lightheaded, clinging to those bars and wishing he was anything like his siblings, if only so he was strong enough to save himself.

“It’s not your bird, it’s its own bird,” Sanji shouts. “It wants out!”

The man shifts his weight. Maybe he was going to step forward, or turn around and go back behind his stall, or maybe he wasn’t going to move at all. Sanji will never know, because at that moment a shadow falls over him, and he knows without having to look that Zoro has come back.

“There a reason he’s on the ground?” Zoro asks. He almost sounds conversational. “Hope it’s a good one.”

The man obviously feels much differently about giving Zoro the same attitude he gave Sanji. He hesitates to answer right away, staring up at the swordsman the way that little bird probably stared up at him when he stuffed it into that stupid little cage. The way Sanji looks up at Judge and hopes for anything else besides what he knows is going to happen.

“He started helping himself to my wares,” the man settles for saying. “Maybe you ought to teach him a bit about how the world works before you let him loose on it. He’s gonna get himself into trouble running his mouth at the wrong guy.”

Sanji is waiting for the moment when he’ll have to defend himself, to make his case, but it never comes. Zoro doesn’t even ask what happened, he just plants himself like a tree in the middle of the confrontation and lets Sanji shelter safely in his shadow, as steady and immovable as the castle walls of Germa Kingdom.

“And are you the wrong guy?” Zoro says, very interested in the answer. He’s got some grilled skewers in one hand and the tote bag that Sanji abandoned in the other, but even without easy access to the swords at his hip, he is not a person anyone would want to get on the wrong side of. That grumpy sleeping dragon that lounges lazily on the deck of the Sunny is gone and the creature left behind is wide-awake and hungry.

Speaking a little faster, the man says, “Look, mate, I’m just trying to make a living here. If I gave away my beasts every time a tender-hearted little brat teared up over them, I’d be out of business.”

Zoro just says, “He’s eight years old and already more of a man than you’ll ever be. You put your hand on him, and you still have your hand. That is more good luck than most people get in a lifetime. Make it count.”

Sanji is not actually surprised when the man snatches up his ledger book and the handle of his cart, ready to make tracks. The bird is left behind, and Sanji picks himself up and hurries over to scoop the cage back into his arms. The bird makes a sound at him like something is rattling in his throat, but it sounds slightly calmer than before.

When he looks up at Zoro, he finds Zoro already gazing back down at him. He holds out the birdcage and says, “There’s a lock. Will you help?”

“I could break it open, but it might cut itself on the metal. It’s not safe to let it out here, anyway,” Zoro says. “Let’s head back home and get Usopp to pick it open. For now carry it in one hand and eat some of these, tough guy.”

Sanji agreeably accepts a skewer of grilled squid and walks close enough to Zoro that he bumps into him every couple of steps. The bird sticks its beak through the bars and snaps at one of the curly tentacles, sneaking a bite so cleanly that Sanji laughs in sheer delight. He shares the rest of that skewer, as well as the next one Zoro passes him with pieces of tender zucchini and shrimp.

“Didn’t know you liked birds,” he says.

“I don’t really,” Sanji says. “I just like this one. Do you know what kind it is?”

“Robin will,” Zoro replies with the unremarkable certainty in his nakama that Sanji is still in the middle of learning. “What makes this one so special?”

“We understand each other, that’s all,” Sanji says. He focuses on keeping the hungry beak away from his fingers when he adds, “I was in a cage, too.”

Zoro stops walking. Sanji doesn’t want to look up at him and see the face that he’s making, because then he won’t be able to force the truth out. And he wants to. He feels safe enough to do that now, for the first time since he woke up in this strange, bright, wonderful, silly family. He thought it would be Luffy he told, or Robin, or little Chopper, but it’s not any of them.

It’s Zoro. The one who lets his siblings crawl all over him and poke fun and start fights, and only ever turns his teeth on any person outside their family who means them harm. The one who never steps in where he isn’t wanted, but keeps careful watch for the moment that he’s needed. Of course it’s him.

“My brothers are mean to me,” he admits in a whisper. “Yonji likes to hurt me. I’m sorry I thought you were like him. You’re not.”

There’s a moment of stillness, the two of them standing in an out-of-the-way corner, the noise and bustle of the market all pushed into the background. And then, without warning, for the second time that day, Sanji is lifted right off his feet. He squeaks in surprise, but he’s settled on Zoro’s shoulders a second later, and grips at his green hair to steady himself with the hand that isn’t clutching the birdcage.

He stares, wide-eyed, out at this view he’s never been given before.

“Next time we see your brother, I’ll beat him up,” Zoro says without preamble. “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied. And that’s a promise.”

Sanji hugs the bird closer, and breathes in a deep lungful of air that tastes like salt and brine and certain freedom. He can see the ocean from here, and their colorful ship bobbing on the water, waiting for them no matter how far away they wander.

“But you’re on your own with Nami when she sees that bird,” the swordsman adds plainly.

Sanji holds the little bird a little closer and smiles. He understands his nakama much better now than he did even earlier this morning. Zoro might say one thing, but he really means another. Sanji is not on his own at all. Maybe he hasn’t been on his own in a long time.

(A week later, with the Devil's Fruit effects finally negated, Sanji is searing scallops in the kitchen, following one of the recipes in his new cookbook, and Zoro is day-drinking at the table, and Stella the common kingfisher is sticking her nosy beak into spice jars where it doesn't belong.

Sanji says, “I’m releasing you from your promise.” When Zoro glances at him, he adds, “You don’t have to beat up my brother. I’m more than capable of doing that myself.”

For a moment, the swordsman doesn’t speak. He and Luffy can have entire conversations in a few seconds of absolute silence, but Sanji is not quite there yet. He waits with newfound patience for Zoro to come to whatever decision he’s making, rewarded when Zoro says, “No, I’m going to. I have it on good authority that he was mean to a friend of mine.”

Sanji scoffs and looks away, busying himself with the food, so that no one sees his helpless smile except for the obnoxious little bird that his present friend harangued Nami into letting him keep.)

#one piece #opfic #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #my writing #incomprehensi-bull #op

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possibilistfanfiction · 8 months

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nightmare for the one word prompts

[a little sad but mostly very silly, butch bea universe]

'i really don't have to go today,' beatrice says, kissing your forehead before settling down next to you on the couch. you know she means it: beatrice means everything she says, first of all, and you have grown — despite your brain's best efforts to steer you otherwise — to trust her when she offers care. you take her in: her fresh haircut that she gets done every month now, usually neatly parted on the top, messy from sleep; her tender wrists; the soft skin of her thighs; the soft sweater you bought her last christmas, sleeves pulled down over her hands, which are always cold.

you sigh. you had had nightmares — more than one, which is rare this many years later, after the worst of it — and woken up with scars that you don't think about too often, or at least with too much pain or sorrow anymore, aching all over your body. your legs had been pins and needles — worse, you've discovered, than feeling nothing some days — and your spine had ached, the halo feeling your sorrow, sharing in it. beatrice had skipped her typical surf session this morning, partially because she'd woken up with you both times last night, and partially because she's worried. she doesn't try to hide it anymore, her concern written all over her gentle face, in her sweet eyes, her soft hands. you find it nestled along all the small things she did for you in the past two hours: bringing you pain meds along with an easy breakfast of scrambled eggs and your favorite rosemary sourdough toast, doing a few snuffles with korra's morning unkibble so she's calm and ready to work today for whatever you need, helping you, after your glum nod, transfer from bed to your chair. you twist the wedding band around on your finger, focus on the few freckles that sit on the tops of her hands because of her time in the sun. your life is real, you remind yourself. your time on the other side, every endless day you spent in hell, was worth it for this, for beatrice quietly and patiently sitting next to you, soft and always becoming more herself; for your family visiting at the end of the week, camila begging to go to universal studios, lilith grumbling but giving in; for the respect people owe you now, and ready give; for your dog and your bar and the edibles you share with beatrice some nights, easy with laughter, and the farofa you feel confident in making for dinner when your friends come over, a warm offering.

'no,' you decide on, firmly, and you know beatrice will trust you. 'we should go. it'll be fun.'

'it will be fun,' she says, the same gleam in her eye you remember from years ago when she was ready to "maim or kill" (lilith's words) anyone who was in the way of her and the mission, especially once you became involved.

'you remember this is, like, your weekly tennis match for fun, right?'

'of course, ava.'

the way she cracks her knuckles tells you that the for fun is lost on her for the most part. it's endlessly amusing to you, though, and quite harmless — although maybe not to her opponent's pride — so you don't bother to argue any further. 'okay, well, i think angela and ruth wanted to have lunch anyway today after their jazzercise class, so we can watch you play.'

'no catcalling.'

you pout. 'you're my wife.'

'not from you, not from ruth or angela.'

'they're old, bea. let them have some fun.'

'at my expense? no thank you. i need to focus while i compete.'

she's already sitting up straighter, eyes lively. she's playing david today, you think, if you remember the club's "adult intermediate to advanced tennis league" rotation correctly. he's a decent player, and their head to head record is relatively even. he's also a bit of an asshole, and a venture capitalist, so it stands to reason beatrice despises him.

'fine.' you squeeze her hand. 'but can you change your shirt between sets?'

'ava.'

'gratuitously towel off or something at least.'

'ava.'

'whatever,' you say. 'i'm wearing a bikini. at least ruth and angela will appreciate it.'

'oh, i'll appreciate it,' she says, and then laughs softly and leans over to kiss you.

everything about beatrice, you decided years ago, is endearing. can she kill a man in, like, one second using just her hand? yes, sure, but you've seen her very skillfully practice her forms every morning for years, barring injury, and frown when anything is off, even by a breath. most people find her precision in all things kind of terrifying, but you've learned that some of it is a trauma response — from her childhood, from being a soldier, from losing you — and some of it is really just how she is. her books sorted exactly how she wants them — by genre, subgenre, and then author's last name — on the bookshelf; the meticulously labeled spices in your pantry, always in both their language of origin and english; her surfboards waxed perfectly and neatly stored in the small shed in your yard. everything about her precision is endearing because you understand her and you love her, and maybe the most endearing, or at least you think some days, is the way she treats rec league club tennis.

no matter how many times you've jokingly reminded her that your club isn't wimbeldon, she likes to wear all white little outfits; men's shorts and, your favorite, a neat polo. in the summer, she favors tanks, which you are not complaining about. she has three racquets and a very impressive bag like all the pros carry onto the court, special towels, pristine sneakers, and, when you're most amused, a wristband she very sincerely wipes her sweaty forehead on. since you'd met she'd loved watching tennis, and she'd taught you — as patiently as she has always taught you anything — the rules, her favorite players (not that it was, like, hard to think serena williams was the best athlete ever), common terms to know. you'd gone out with her a few times to the courts and she'd shown you proper form; you'd found out, eventually from her, that her dream as a little kid was to be a tennis pro, which was so charming and a little unexpected. you had thought she would've wanted to be some kind of scientist, maybe a really good lawyer, but her brother had dug out some pictures of little beatrice in her tennis getup, her expression so, so serious for a nine year old, and you'd fallen in love all over again.

she listens to her "pump-up music" — a lot of pop, surprisingly — as she drives you both to the club, focused already in her tennis outfit, complete with a quarterzip warmup top and everything. you're endlessly amused by her, in a way that most people are too intimidated to be, and you think it's good for her, to feel human, to not be taken so seriously when she should get to just enjoy things. your pain meds are helping by the time you get to the club, the pins and needles down your legs leveling out, the halo shaking off some of its deep sorrow, the memories of torture and abject aloneness that sometimes show up in your dreams. today is bright and sunny, the bluest sky, and your friends wave to you once you get out to the tables near the tennis courts. beatrice says a quick hello and then bustles off to start her very precise warm up routine, and you all wait until she's out of earshot to share a fond laugh.

'david today?'

'i swear she was rewatching coco and iga's last match yesterday to prepare.'

ruth pats your hand and angela orders a charcuterie for the table, gets prosecco for ruth and herself and — they both know you well enough by now that your chair usually means you've had to take medication, which you don't mix with alcohol — a cranberry soda for you, your favorite.

david shows up a few minutes later as you're gossiping, angela gasping at ruth's latest escapades with her new boyfriend while you laugh delightedly. he's the kind of muscular dude that likes to run along the beach shirtless because he thinks it's impressive but really it just looks ridiculous, the kind of dude that would give unwanted pointers in the gym. you don't have a disdain for him like beatrice does, because he's never done anything abhorrent to you personally, but when you see her steely gaze as he goes to his bench on the court, you get it. and, also, it's hot, so, like, you shoot a quick thanks to david and his douchey backwards cap for that.

things go just about as you'd expected: beatrice plays with the amount of passion you'd see in a wimbeldon final, and angela and ruth relentlessly whistle and cheer and boo. the charcuterie has a new truffle havarti you're all in love with, and the bottle of prosecco gets split happily while you watch. it's a fairly even match — david hits harder than beatrice but is slower and definitely stupider — and she wins the first set 6 games to 4. she gets mad at him for serving too slowly, and they briefly have an argument over whether or not one of his backhands was in. it's all deeply ridiculous for an afternoon at in an amateur club league, but beatrice and her overhand serves get you every single time.

she's down a break in the second set when she hits a drop shot that has david falling over his own feet, and you know it's over then. the second bea realizes someone is truly out of sorts, in any scenario, she's already won.

they shake hands after the match is over, beatrice taking the second set much quicker than the first, and then she makes her way over to your table and sits, very satisfied, in the chair next to you, a towel around her neck.

'my champion,' you say, and she rolls her eyes, accepting the congratulatory beer angela had already ordered for her as the last game was winding down with a thankful nod.

'great match, beatrice,' ruth says, half-sincere, half-teasing, but beatrice smiles anyway. sometimes, things are not good; sometimes, on the worst days, even now, even still, even with all this love, you still remember what it was like to suffer alone — without feeling, with too much feeling — for so much of your life. but beatrice slips into her quarterzip next to you and you smell sweat and laundry detergent and the pomade she puts in her hair, you feel the sun warming along your back and you hear the small group of children starting their lesson, laughing brightly. beatrice holds your hand and you'll nap later; you'll order takeout from your favorite thai place and watch the sunset on your patio; you'll fall asleep in her arms. you'll wake up and do it all over again — the loneliness, the pain, the longing — just for this.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡#this is mostly bc a) i’ve been meaning to write this for like six months lmao it’s so funny #b) i’ve been watching the us open go coco obviously #c) whew ava deserves a silly happy life!!!! thinking abt him always #also d) bea when faced w normal competitive scenarios would be so insane #just absolutely batshit crazy i love her

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fanficsiwillneverwrite · 2 months

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On my umpteenth rewatch of lok, I had a sudden interest in old Zuko…. And let’s just say another wip is brewing in my brain now about Zuko and his involvement in book 3 :/

Zuko looks in the mirror and sees only a face he no longer recognizes: old, long past its prime. An old wound haunting him, even how many years later. It happened so long ago; only yesterday. Shaky hands rub the rough skin as the memory takes hold. It was for the better, he once told himself long ago. It led him on the path of good, toward the light. But the thought of giving such a punishment to Izumi… He admittedly was not perfect when it came to raising her, but he was no Ozai.

Through the reflection, he sees Akari, the Firelord’s senior aide, emerge from the golden doors. “Lord Zuko,” she says with a respectful and low bow. Her voice is distant, muffled, despite being so near. Just a reminder of his aging body. “The Firelord will see you now.”

He nods, acknowledging her, but his focus remains on the stranger–no, the old man–staring back at him, copying every move he makes. Akari backs away to give him space. And he touches a few wrinkles. Uncle always said they were a sign of living, far better than the alternative. His laughter still echoes in his mind; the steam of hot tea still lingers around him.

He moves away from his reflection and into the throne room where his daughter sits high above him in all her glory. Zuko smiles as he bows–and his old bones crack as he bends. Another reminder that the old man in the mirror and the boy who thought his destiny was to capture the Avatar were one in the same. “The Firelord has requested an audience with me. I would be interested in knowing what for.”

“Hello Dad,” greets Izumi gently as she stands. She approaches him, a familiar look of care mixed with concern permanently captures her face each time she looks at him. He knows it well. Old age brings on pity. No, Uncle would say, old age brings on care. They hug and, suddenly, he is drunk with the scent of familiarity. Once Mai’s favorite perfume worn now by a grieving daughter who wants only to keep her mother close. “How are you?”

“I am fine, daughter,” he assures, his hand squeezing her shoulder as if to emphasize the fact. Sadness lingers around them with Mai’s passing just over a year ago. “Though, perhaps it is I who should be asking you that very question. Avatar Korra has led us into a new age where spirits and mankind must now live together in harmony. As the Firelord, it is your duty to make her decision a reality. With some guidance from me, of course, if it doesn’t interfere with my nap time.”

She rolls her eyes as a smile forms. “I think sometimes I can make better sense of your snoring than your political babble,” she teases.

“Be careful what you say next, daughter,” he shoots back. “I still have claim to the throne, you know.”

“Like I’d give it back,” she tells him playfully. But her face turns serious. And like a stuck bandage, the news of why she has summoned him is ripped open quickly to ease the anticipation: “I’ve just received word from President Raiko in Republic City. It seems… Harmonic Convergence has brought back the Airbenders.”

His heart feels as if it has sunk. The Fire Nation’s greatest burden, their deepest regret—now, so suddenly, fixed? He would have to see it to believe it, especially if Raiko is the one reporting it. All the man cares about is the votes. “What?”

“I haven’t yet received word from Tenzin, but there has been at least one Airbender sighting in Caldera alone. Most, it seems, are in the Earth Kingdom.”

“That could mean trouble.”

The Earth Queen remains bitter over land now the United Republic of Nations and everything surrounding it, Air Temple Island included: Earth Kingdom territory, she makes false claims. While her father was timid, mostly oblivious as a leader, Hou-Ting is loud, demanding, and a complete tyrant.

Zuko turns, hurrying out the room. There is no time to waste. “I’ll head straight to Ba Sing Se—”

His daughter is quick to stop him. “The Fire Nation should not have any involvement there, dad. You know this.” His intent would be to liberate this new wave of Airbenders from the grasps of great tyrannical power, but the world might view it as another Firelord’s attempt to again dismantle the Air Nation. He blinks, seeing clearly now as his daughter faces him again. “Furthermore,” Izumi continues cautiously; they’re always dancing around his state of retirement. The nation is hers–it is her birthright–but he makes diplomatic trips around the world to assure peace, to continue what he and Avatar Aang started so long ago, yesterday. “A man your age should really be fretting over pai sho and gardening. Not the state of the world.”

The man she is describing is Uncle. Not him, never him. “I will not turn my back on the world when it still needs me,” Zuko insists. His reflection shows an achy old man with a story long ago completed, but as long as his heart still beats and the fire still burns, he can be useful.

“I know,” she says, “but… you can only do so much before it becomes too overwhelming for you.” She adjusts her glasses as a sigh escapes her. “Dad, I care only for your safety–”

“I am still capable–”

“–which is why I think it perfectly sensible for you to take in a ward.”

He stops, hurt–offended. “A-a ward?”

“One of Master Muromachi’s young pupils,” she continues. “Someone who can be your companion. Someone who will watch your back and defend you when you’re unable.”

Zuko huffs, rubbing his forehead in frustration. His daughter thinks him unable, an invalid of his craft now just because of a few wrinkles. Spirits! He is Lord Zuko, Leader of the Fire Nation and the Avatar’s Firebending Master. And she thinks he needs a sidekick? Some noble boy defending his honor? “No, absolutely not. I don’t need some child protecting me.”

Izumi rolls her eyes. “This isn’t a suggestion, dad. Master Muromachi is expecting you. We’ll go down there this afternoon.”

He stomps away stubbornly, like a child not getting his way. The roles were reversed long ago, just yesterday when he was still in charge, when he was still capable. “I can choose my own ward, can’t I?”

“Of course–”

“Then I’ll go on my own, if it pleases the Firelord.”

He exits before she can answer. Anger boils within him. He hates being the man who is old, the man who needs help. Most of his friends are gone now and this new generation is perfectly competent, his daughter being one of them, but the fire still burns inside him. The face in the mirror is the face he saw long ago–yesterday–when there was no scar.

The Fire Nation Academy for Gifted Boys is a secondary school for sons of nobles. It teaches Nonbenders how to fight through the art of swordsmanship. Only the best, or most wealthy, can attend. And the training is rigorous, not for the faint hearted. Tom-Tom became one of the academy’s pupils when he came of age, mastering sword fighting at the age of fourteen. Firelord Ozai always dismissed the school’s teachings, saying Nonbenders could never truly be masters without the ability of bending. In his final years, without his bending, his father learned the way of the sword, though he never tried to understand the relationship between a man and his blade, thus never becoming a full master of the craft.

These days the school is just as rigorous with Master Muromachi, a stern and, dare he say, cruel man, in charge of this new generation of fighters. The boys stand straight in a line when Lord Zuko arrives. Eyes forward, not one hair out of place, not a single crease in their suits. Their movements are in sync as they all bow low when Muromachi introduces him to them.

“You have honored this school with your presence, Lord Zuko,” Muromachi says with a bow of his own. He moves aside for Zuko to properly examine his students. “Please, choose anyone you think is worthy.” He gestures to the tallest of the group: tan skinned and golden eyed, Zuko sees a darkness in him that brings only suspicion. The way the boy eyes him; it’s not like the others. “Eigo here is our star pupil.”

“Is that so?”

Muromachi gestures again and Eigo assumes a fighting stance as he draws his sword. He dances with it around Zuko–impressive but, still, there is something about him that he doesn’t quite like–before returning to his spot in line.

“Very good,” Zuko tells him, “though I find your lack of moderation rather… unsettling.”

The boy’s expression darkens at the criticism. Not suitable for his company at all. Muromachi moves on without a visible reaction: “Pao,” he calls. And the next boy moves skillfully around the room with his blades. A mindless routine, practiced over and over again until perfection. He does what he is told and nothing more.

“Your moves, though highly skillful, lack originality,” Zuko notes. He will find something wrong for each of them. He does not need a protector, nor does he want one.

Muromachi becomes more tense as they move down the line, each boy weaker than the last. This Academy is a show and these so-called warriors are nothing more than performers this day in age, not like how they used to be, he will tell his daughter later over tea. That is why he did not choose a child today. That is why he should not have a ward.

Finally, they arrive at the last: the smallest of the group. A softness exists within him that the other boys do not have. Short hair above his ears cut in a wonky bowl shape and fierce blue eyes with a sparkle in them that shows he is ready, not to win but to fight for what is right—he knows those eyes. It hits him, suddenly. A girl, disguised as a young boy.

“Lee!” orders Muromachi, sweating profusely at this point. Zuko instantly understands the name is false, an alias to hide her true nature.

And the girl disguised as a boy begins her dance around Zuko. Her movements are hesitant. She nearly trips over her own two feet. Her two swords do not move together as one but rather as completely separate entities. An amateur compared to her peers. Muromachi is visibly appalled by her performance, but remains silent out of respect for his guest. Zuko, admittedly, is intrigued by the girl. Why would she openly go through such turmoil?

#zuko #prince zuko #lord Zuko #old zuko #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #legend of korra #lok #lok fanfic #atla #avatar the last airbender #also like I’m sorry for all the wips I’m pumping out but life is just up and down right now so

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