#not to imply that i actually have time for that rn lmao
Text
i don't know why it took (*checks my calendar*) four years of having a whump blog for this to occur to me, but one of my old lab-experiment ocs who has infinite regenerative healing powers would be a GREAT whump oc for this blog. i was constantly putting that girl thru it, and now that i've abandoned her story and don't know what to do with it, maybe it's time to repurpose her 👀
#not to imply that i actually have time for that rn lmao#(i do not. college and health issues are kicking my ass)#but still. i want her to come back#i miss her#oh and her BROTHER#AND HER SHITTY DAD#ziptalks
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
★ Hickeys
ೃ⁀➷do they suck (lol) at hickeys, giver or receiver?, how? all answered down below by your beloved Tomie✨
ೃ⁀➷Psss this is a head-canon, take it lightly~
ೃ⁀➷ Suggestive, implied f!reader, NSFW language
ೃ⁀➷ monster trio + Law+ Ace
: ̗̀➛ Luffy
He’s the type to receive them more than to give
When he realizes he has hickeys, he’s just gonna wonder how it’s even possible and if smth hit his neck during a fight💀
Probably gonna bug Chopper about it, until he brushes him off mentioning it’s nothing
Then when you’re making out and you linger on his neck, it clicks into his mind. He yells a « ooohh, It was you! » after realizing that, it surprises you and you almost bit his skin-
He’s down to try it when you explain that you want them on you too
« You want me to suck your skin a little until it bruises? A bit like when you bruise after a fight? »
« Ugh… not the same but you got the spirit? »
He’s dense, but he tried and he didn’t do as bad as you thought
: ̗̀➛ Law
LMAO?? Wouldn’t he be the type to lowkey hit you with a scientific facts that hickeys can kill you if done wrong🤓😭
Ik he would. Im so sorry😮💨
On another note, tbh I feel like he’s just sooo into it, when his mind is fogged by lust. He will be making out with you and damn, he’s now leaving wet kisses all over your neck. That itself, just awaken some type of possessive strike and you’re left with hickeys a bit everywhere.
Will quietly eye them when y’all are cuddling after sex. He won’t comment on it beside if you point them out.
“They look great.”
It would be the most reaction you will get out of him. He’s so hot though- intrusive thoughts but they are real 😔
He doesn’t mind at all if you leave some on him fr. Like if it’s done within the right vibe and y’all are just kicking it and you’re riding him or y’all in lotus position, he might even groan and moan a little louder and curse under his breath.
: ̗̀➛ Sanji
Oh his mouth is ALLL OVERR your body. He’s kissing, praising, leaving hickeys all over your body. On you chest, between your thighs, on you collarbone.
He’s almost in a trance while he loves your body and mark it. He’s gotta to enjoy his pretty lover and you bet he’s gonna make it known that you are his and he’s the lucky man who has you!!
He’s so sweet about it, with sweet compliments, but it’s a bit messy too. Wet patches, mumbles from his muffled lips.
He’s SOOOOO down if you wanna do it on him. He gets very excited and can’t stop smiling and touching your body.
“Yes of course I’m down! Wanna try it rn? We got time yk..”
Best boy 🤧
ೃ⁀➷ Zoro
His neck always has some hickeys from you. He thought he hated it, but he quickly got over it and finds it hot now.
He doesn’t care too much if someone stare at them, but he will throw a curse out with a deadpan expression, if someone made a snarky comment.
He also has this possessive strike, so you bet you’re gonna have some type of bruises-hickeys on your body after y’all are done. Because he doesn’t go easy on you, he will be thrusting deep into you, while silencing you with his fingers deep in your mouth. Along with that, his mouth is nibbling on you neck and all your sensitive spots.
It’s an overstimulating mess.
He smirks satisfied when he sees you marked up, moaning his name and completely lost into his touch.
ೃ⁀➷ Ace
Oh, this man here has the biggest possessive strike out of all the men here.
I touched on the subject a little on my NSFW head canon, but he definitely love giving them. He whines when you do, because he’s apparently allergic to shirts and get slightly annoyed when each of his friends on the ship makes some jokes.
He loves that everyone knows you’re his. Because he gets to have one person for him, that actually feels love toward him and someone he can trust??! That’s the life prize!
Every time he fucks you, he makes sure that hickeys are created everywhere on your body.
He will shower you with attention and cocky comments as he sucks on to your skin.
It’s his specialty😮💨
#one piece#one piece headcanons#tomiewrites🌷#one piece x reader#portgas d ace#one piece zoro#zoro headcanons#portgas ace x you#ace one piece#portgas ace smut#ace smut#luffy smut#luffy x reader#sanji headcanons#sanji smut#sanji fluff#traflagar law smut#law smut#law headcanons#law x reader#sanji x reader#ace sabo luffy#luffy fluff#zoro smut#zoro fluff#zoro imagines#portgas d ace smut#one piece smut
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
i. the likeability paradox.
pairing. joel miller x fem!reader
synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.
warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!
word count. 12.9k
hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it
taglist. @kayleezra @newavenger + add yourself to the taglist here !
read on ao3 ! ( capitalization available )
distaste is not new in the life of joel miller.
in particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. he is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. the years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.
if anything, he’s made himself more empty.
rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.
an apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. the man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that miller guys passed between cowardly members of fedra and the keep away from mr. miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.
this plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become dead-weight.
“so that’s all i am to ya, huh? dead-fucking-weight?” his brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving joel to do what joel does best: endure.
somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the dead-weight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.
she was an exception, his tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. they’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.
she never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.
which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of tess’ foot against his shin.
“... and then,” frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. with a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. we were finding paw-prints for days!”
joel’s unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. as if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the german shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.
“which means i was cleaning paw-prints for days.” bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.
frank is quick to shush him.
“i’m sorry, again, bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “i’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”
there you sit, parallel to him.
the sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. it hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.
you catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.
the threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which joel can account for, mouth to keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. the battle ends swiftly as you surrender to bill’s hardened stare, and frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.
“you, sit. no one should have to clean up the food they made.”
they get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.
silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and painting you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun hind a large cloud that causes such a thing.
being alone, with you, is something joel’s never mastered. the affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.
were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.
something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. the dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.
just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.
the ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. he’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.
the pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.
“he likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.
as if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.
to envy a creature that licks it own shit off its ass is a new low for joel.
“thinkin’ he might like ya more, sol.” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.
“most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.
he takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and tess have made.
“you’ve got a whole load in common, you know? i think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”
“how the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” there he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. it helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.
“well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. he’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “and have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”
he’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.
discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘s easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”
with you as its protector.
he doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. he watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.
survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.
but i could keep you safe.
he toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. it’s not the first time he’s thought it. truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.
his memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just bill, frank and you. a few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was frank who’d prompted the question. “where were you all when... this started?” tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’ll never meet.
he never imagined her working in a bank.
bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” he’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. she was barely out of school. “i knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.
joel had always been a good listener. being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. all this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of bill.
but you weren’t smiling.
he watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.
the desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. with each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. he’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“you’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “those we remember never truly die!”). he’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘could keep you safe. there, then, the thought did cross his mind.
he’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.
“-could fix it, you know. i’m good with my hands.”
he almost chokes on his own breath.
i'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. and he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.
“what?” the question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. in the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.
the mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face joel once more.
he sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.
“your watch, it’s broken.”
“hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “don’t need ya to fix it.”
you pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. confusion.
“don’t you want to know the time?” you ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and joel miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.
“i don’t keep it for the time.”
you smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.
the german shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.
he’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. it’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-
“ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” you’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “i’ve never heard any of the joel miller backstory, this should be-”
“i get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”
nature falls silent.
skies grow dull.
you juggle sadness.
there’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. the dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.
joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.
“sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. only, the gates have been shut in his face and joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “but you’re wrong. i don’t like everyone.”
“‘s that so.” his eyes roll. the hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal joel will always be wiling to place you on.
“yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “i don’t like you, joel.”
the hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.
we’re staying, for tonight. tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the qz for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day
the nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading bill and frank- mostly frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. if only joel could remember which door leads to yours.
the two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.
tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a fedra agent’s wife, you whisper that frank and bill had been fighting again recently. the memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly bill and frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.
at some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. at another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.
-n’t tell me you’re a virgin.
the words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.
a protest rings true in his head and his ears.
was gonna say. knew you were young, but not that young.
it’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.
“god, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. it was alright, i guess. i just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”
he’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. a groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.
neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.
“not much to miss?! sweet christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” he’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken tess. each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. there’s no need to bother opening his eyes, joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “i’d give up a hand for some head!”
you must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of tess’ renewed shock fills the room. he wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.
late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.
“you’ve got to be shittin’ me.”
“it bores me!”
“it bores you!?”
the couch beneath joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp tess gives. the last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.
the crueler part of his mind replays your voice, i don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.
you like tess. love her, even. it’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out finally someone with a pair of boobs, i’m bored of the sight of my own. joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.
maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.
“must not have been doin’ ya right,” the bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. you’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. it’s oddly endearing, you think no one has noticed. “this fella of yours.”
joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.
he does so, regardless.
“well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “we were each others firsts.”
“that’s no excuse! trust i left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time i went down.” tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. no discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.
you scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “what, are you offering your services?”
this he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which tess had raised you to heaven while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.
“‘as sure as i am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you i like my women a little older than you.”
he knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the qz. it should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. but he can’t, and he won’t.
and you’re the one to blame.
you, with the glow of a thousand suns. you, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. you, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.
his own self being the first he’d need fight.
joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.
the next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.
he’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. some small, meaningless little things, that ripple joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. others, tsunamis. big, angry, all imposing. they’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.
amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. but the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. they catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. in the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.
the currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.
this evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. he reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. the gentle, barely-there croon of a sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. across from him is tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. snoring comes from below him, where joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.
you take up no space of this room.
neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.
there are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.
he should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. a good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.
he could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure frank wouldn’t mind. bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the qz.
he would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. he imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.
i don’t like you, joel.
those words stop him from trying.
he tells himself it’s for the best.
with a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. he swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. the door’s already half-opened, and joel nearly thanks christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. the darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.
the refrigerator.
it’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. a subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.
keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.
she never lived long enough to get either.
he catches something move beneath the artificial light. cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.
“why aren’t ya sleepin’?” the words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.
beneath the light, you shrug, “could ask you the same thing, texas.”
he curses tess for teaching you such a nickname.
he curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.
you’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, joel remains unaware.
he grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. the door behind him closes over and give the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.
“i asked first.” you laugh, at him. full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. the corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. he hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you, bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘s so funny, huh?”
“nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “just never heard the joel miller say something so childish. you’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”
you make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. a fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. uncouth and unbothered, joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.
“you know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” you call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. the thirst does not budge. he hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.
by the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.
“i’m making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “make sure you take some with you when you leave. tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”
would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. he’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.
i don’t like you, joel.
of course you would do the same. not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. all words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. they violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over joel’s entire persona.
he straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. the sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. his hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, and the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of tess, and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what joel hears.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. you’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.
and, suddenly, joel’s angry. at you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. the fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.
only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.
a hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise joel gifts you.
you may leave your marks emotionally, but joel’s will always be physical.
“why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “don’t ya like me?”
if not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “why do you care?”
he scoffs, “i don’t.”
“hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody tess was playing in the living room. “sure sounds like you do.”
“yeah, well, i don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.
joel knows he cares. it’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to bill and frank’s.
what joel doesn’t know is why he cares. there’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. he’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.
maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.
instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.
not one bit.
joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. his feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. his chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.
he inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.
“for the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘s like how i sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. no part of him should ever be compared to you. “i don’t like ya either.”
he’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.
the knife never ceases its movement. back and forth, back and forth. chop, chop, chop. blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. it’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.
the hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.
“that’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.
it’s his turn to respond with a hum.
“you only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. his wandering touch halts. “a little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what i think.”
this strikes a nerve. fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. the realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “d’ya know what i think?”
even upside down, your beauty is striking.
“no, unlike you i don’t care what you think about-” joel tugs on your hair once more.
“i think you’re a brat. a silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” you could. he’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.
“you’re hurting me,” you whine, joel growls.
animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. his gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.
your dress- red, a colour joel miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.
“you like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.
“no, i don’-” dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “joel.”
he retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. whoever joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.
“heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and tess. the blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ talkin’ bout your past.”
he doesn’t specify.
he doesn’t need to.
you give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.
“tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. his hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “i wouldn’t.”
you say nothing. joel pulls harder.
“too bad i’m-” you cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. with a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, joel watches you like a hawk. the twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. the want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “too bad i’m not offering you the chance.”
joel miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. with notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.
“who said anything about an offer?”
the descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.
a part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.
the other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. you’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.
smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs longer than any tree in the amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the himalayas. arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.
your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, joel knows how to read people. and, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.
joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.
you breathe in, you breathe out.
one knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. he revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.
inhale, exhale.
your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.
“hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. all he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. with the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “don’t move.”
where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.
lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. one flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. a wet patch, your wetness. the stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.
curiosity gets the better of him- one day, joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers curling themselves in the waistband of your panties and the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.
in and out, shaky breathing comes from above.
the lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. a heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. he makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.
delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. there’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. he wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. he thinks it must hurt.
his fist curls tighter, pulls higher.
“ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in joel’s peripheral vision.
“shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “people are tryin’ to sleep.”
you scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”
“‘s that an invitation to see how loud i can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. this, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “or a challenge?”
“it’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.
as coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. so he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. he awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.
it’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.
“you’re drippin’” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. the view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘s actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. is it cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”
he can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.
but first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.
cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.
rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.
it happens so sudden, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of tess. he wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.
so he does the same.
working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. he breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.
two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.
“so now you shut up. ‘s the matter, huh?” he’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “am i too borin’ for ya?”
“you’re the most infuriating man i’ve ever- oh!”
a tongue meets skin.
the knife clatters onto the counter.
you lurch forward.
his hand pulls you back.
“tess was right, ya know?” he can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. he pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “that boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”
the common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better, if you’d just let him.
‘could keep ya satisfied.
that’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. he’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.
“is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? what ya need is a man, a man like me!” the softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension, god it’s never sounded sweet, and joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.
“well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. he imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “but if ya insist.”
diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. the tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.
licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.
he’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by only experience that comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. you’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.
he’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.
what a perfect excuse you are, for joel to remaster the arts of lust.
it’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. it’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. it’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever days he shall possess on his knees before you.
and all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.
his only saving grace is that he can’t see you.
hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.
burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.
“n- ah,” you can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “no, don’t, not there.”
next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.
sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.
and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.
his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time tess tells him they’re due a visit.
except, the oven door is made of glass.
glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.
and then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.
the image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.
“d’ya touch yourself, sol?” you don’t answer him, but that’s okay. in a sweet change of pace, joel miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “yeah, bet ya do. late at night, right? once you’re all alone in bed. ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”
you back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.
fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “let me do the honours this time though.”
you don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. he imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.
he’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.
you’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. your expression, he can’t quite read. not sad, not happy, not mad.
your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.
the discomfort of trekking back to the qz will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.
“joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.
he swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. he’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.
“that,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. he pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “shouldn’t have happened.”
joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.
people once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. as sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. not today, however, and joel miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.
it chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. there’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.
that dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.
he cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “no, not again. my back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the german shepherd’s head. it whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. a scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “not so bad, are ya? huh?” never in a million years did joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and tess had set out for their routinely visit to the bill and frank’s. never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.
he hears you before he sees you.
“you planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, texas?”
he tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.
the world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.
so instead, it sends you.
peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than uv ray could ever be. he’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. a few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. at the very least, he considers, i’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.
the smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. when he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. he does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.
“thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. you’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”
a queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. he’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “no problem, thanks... for feeding tess and i.”
“no worries!” you’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. he can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “oh, actually, that’s why i came out here, i was looking for tess-” of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “hold on!”
you shoot off back inside so quickly that otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. with an idle pet to his head as you pass by, joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. in your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.
“i wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. he can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “i know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”
“why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.
pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.
you show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him, “there should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”
it’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.
so he tries again, louder.
“why don’t ya like me?”
“and i’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”
he grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "answer me." like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.
"for someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. you don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “you sure do talk about my opinion a lot."
"answer the damn question, girl.”
“or, what?” you’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “you gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”
had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.
instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.
joel says nothing.
“how about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and bill make.” inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “you get me something, i’ll tell you what you want to know.”
he grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “what d’ya want? ‘cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. i ain’t messing with none of bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”
“a dress.”
“a dress?” the statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.
“yes, and don’t look at me like that!” it’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “i need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”
unaware he’d even began to lean closer, joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.
“joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.
neither of you dare to break eye contact. again, his name is yelled. this time, he manages to identify tess as the owner of the voice. habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of tess or you.
his feet remain glued to the ground.
tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “think you might be needed inside, macho man. your missus is calling.”
“she ain’t my-”
“you two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.
only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. in her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. you approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.
“i should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. he decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “go check on the food, before it burns.”
you’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.
tess and him hit the road by noon. earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. the bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun heating the world with its rays. he walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from tess and racking his brain for answers.
answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the qz. answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven bill’s created. answers to why you don’t like him.
i don’t like you, joel.
it motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. if he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.
till then, he needs to find a dress.
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Alright! Tier list of how likely are hpma characters of becoming dateable ( if we ever get the romance option)
Ok so here´s the list in question and my absolutely undenyable scientific reasonings behind each placement. ( /j, I understand my logic ain´t perfect so feel free to disagree)
IT´S GONNA BE VERY LONG SO BEWARE
Very likely tier
aka these characters are pretty much guaranteed to become an option or at least have a really high chance (85-100%)
Daniel: I think this one is like,,,out of question lmao. It´s pretty obvious that if you could date somebody in this game, he would be an option. First and foremost, he´s the only male companion available in the game rn, making him the most fitting male character for this role and you can´t make a romance option with no boys like cmon. Second, he´s one of the most prominent characters in a storyline and is pretty much considered to be one of mc´s closest friends along with Ivy and y´know how it goes. Also, we can take into consideration the "favoritism advantage", as in it´s pretty obvious he along with Cass is the most beloved character by the fandom and I believe it is something you as a dev should take into consideration when making a romance option.
Ivy: pretty much many of the same logic used for Daniel is applied here. She´s tecnically our first friend in the game, she´s one of mc´s closest friends and she is one of the more prominent characters in the story (she, mc and Daniel are at this point the "main trio" of the game), making her the most likely female character to be available as an option. I would say she doesn´t have a really strong "favoritism advantage" as there are less fans liking her than Daniel and Cassandra, but there are some people who seem to like and favor her and tbh I feel like it wouldn´t really affect the decision behind making her an option.
Cassandra: as much as she is supposed to be our "rival" in the game, first of all, Merula from HPHM exists. Second, we still have like, 5 more years (well, 4 tecnically, but you get the point), so there could be a possible chance of her either redeeming herself to some degree or just becoming less antagonistic towards mc. And it´s not like she hates the mc either, I feel like she actually kinda enjoys their company, just has troubles admitting her liking to us. Plus it´s not like dating a "rival character" is something new. But even if we forget about the whole "she´s supposed to be our rival" shtick, she is just a really good option for the romance. AS MUCH AS I HATE GOING OFF VIBES, she really does give of the dateable vibe, sorry. Not to mention the "favoritism advantage" not only from the fans but the developers as well. I would say that given everything, she most likely would be a lot harder to rizz up than Daniel and Ivy, in a sense that it would probably be more time consuming to get her to date us, but I feel like it would be a rather rewarding in the end of a day.
Pretty likely
aka there´s a possibility they won´t be available as an option, but given everything they have a high chance of actually being one (60-84%)
Lottie: I feel like out of the rest of the cast we have, Lottie is the most likely to be dateable, although she´s only availbale as a dancing companion at this moment (hope they fix that fr). The chances are a lot less than the three characters from above, with her not being a very prominent character in the story besides Year 2 and her not having a lot of fans but I feel like she does have a certain probability of being chosen for the role, especially since the more option there are the better. Right??? (she deserves more love btw)
Uhh
aka I have no idea at this point, it really depends (50%)
Colby and Fischer aka Frey twins: I´m gonna be real with you, when I first made this tier list, I had put them in a "unlikely" tier, below Kevin and Robyn, because I felt like given everything the chances were very low. They are not available as companions, they are highly implied to have some of crush on Cassandra and they don´t have a strong "favoritism advantage" even from the devs themselves (this mostly applies to japanese and korean twitter accounts for the game, which "forgot" to post their character cards (you probably know which ones I´m talking about) which contained character description, concept art and voice actors listed (as I do know that along with character from "very likely" tier they were the only ones who had their character description uploaded to the official site, at least in english,so perhaps this point is sorta weak in that regard). But the more I though about it, the more I realised they do have certain probability. Or shall I say, one of them. Yes, I feel like there´s a chance that we could potentially date one of the twins,as in only one of them. Which one is most likely to be dateable? At this point I have no idea, but my bet´s on Colby. That being said, the only possible logical explanation I could give is "we need more than one male option available" and Kevin isn´t likely to be one, so the Freys, especially Colby are the most likely contendants for it. But other than that, it´s just a vibe and gut feeling thing, which is not a very good argument material.
Most likely not
aka the chances are below 50%. It´s not completely out of the question, but I´d say the chances are very low albeit not non existent.
Robyn: in spite of her being a companion character for every game mode except dancing and having certain favoritism advantage, let´s be real here, the affection system behind her is probably only designed to buff her specific character desks. But yeah, girl´s got a crush on Kevin, pretty obvious one at that, so she probably won´t be a dating option. Also a gut feeling moment, I feel like at some point in the story Robyn and Kevin will date eventually, but again, it is a gut feeling, so it´s not an argument material, but yeah.
Kevin: same logic as behind Robyn except he´s not even a companion character so the chances are even lower kfdvjhkfdvjkhl
and that´s the list and my reasons behind each placement
IF YOU REACHED IT THIS FAR THANK U SM FOR READING THIS LIKE FOR REAL YOU GUYS R AWESOME FOR MANAGING TO READ ALL OF THIS!!!
#hpma#magic awakened#harry potter magic awakened#tier list#everyone who read all of it you are a hero fr#also feel free to give your own thoughts#oof man time to do character tags i´m gonna die fr#hpma daniel#hpma cassandra#hpma ivy#hpma lottie#hpma kevin#hpma robyn#hpma colby#hpma fischer#hpma frey twins#daniel page#ivy warrington#cassandra vole#lottie turner#robyn thistlethwaite#kevin farrell#colby frey#fischer frey
349 notes
·
View notes
Note
It’s me again, something similar happened to me yesterday when I was moving to school, and could really use the girls for comfort rn
R is stressed trying to quickly move things, perhaps moving into wandanat room? When she falls, to her it’s blank one minute she was standing the next she’s in pain on the floor? Obviously r is stubborn and tries to carry on not wanting to be seen as weak or lazy. But the girls notice and immediately go into caring mode where the see r is actually bleeding and hurt her ankle.
“Oh my sweet girl you could’ve come to us. We aren’t mad. Let’s clean you up”
“You can’t walk darling, you’ll make it worse”
“Lots of love for our love bug”
“Shhh no saying sorry. They are not necessary sweet girl, you can’t help it”
Any fluffy comfort dialogue 🥹
~ 🕯️ I would like this emoji like you suggested so you can see I’m the writer you’ve been on my page recently lmao
Moving in but with crutches
Pairings: Wandanat x R
Word count: 1.5K
Summary: Reader is super excited to move in with her girls but she’s a little clumsy and ends up needing some tlc
TW: light mentions of blood, sprain (implied), injury
A/n sorry this took so long to get done but I hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing it. Also I’m happy for you to be 🕯 anon :)
It was finally time. Ever since moving to the compound your gaze had trailed after them like a lost puppy. Them, being the power couple of the compound. Them, being Wanda and Natasha.
You were sure the mind reader and spy couldn’t have missed the light shades of pink that dusted your cheeks every time they spoke to you. Or maybe they just thought you weren’t very sun safe, either way it didn’t matter now because the three of you had been dating for four months now and despite all the milestones that are in a relationship this one was the one you were most excited for. Moving in with them.
Sure, you had been sleeping in their bed for like two weeks now, but it was never really officially your room. You still had all your stuff in the other smaller room tony had built for you when you joined the team. Wanda and Nat party because they were sharing a room and party because they had been on the team for far longer, had a much larger and your opinion much nicer room. Furnished with Wanda’s touches and Natasha’s tastes. There were enough plants, courtesy of Wanda, to compete with a forrest and it was just beautiful.
You had spent the morning packing your stuff into box’s, sure it was just across the hall, but your stuff was important to you, and you wanted the full experience.
You came to the tower with nothing but your name and the clothes on your back, so you wanted the full nine yards. Wanda and Nat were supportive and had been helping you pack. But as lunch neared all of you were getting hungry so nat and Wanda had gone out to pick up some takeaway. Claiming that the living alone lifestyle was about to change, and you should make the most of it. Of course, that statement led to an argument over who was more of a blanket hog which you did your best not to be roped into.
Once the two had secured their keys and left, still bickering however, you turned up your music and moved over to some of the heavier items.
Pulling the books off the bookshelf and placing them neatly in boxes you moved over to the lamp. But in your haste accidentally pulled on the chord.
One second you were upright and the next thing you knew you were on the floor. As your senses came back to you and you shifted into a sitting position, the pain flooded in. Your ankle was bleeding, the bulb must have smashed, and on top of that the joint hurt like all hades.
Despite the calming breathes you took your ankle was starting to look worse. A light blue bruise that you were sure was only going to darken began to form around the joint and you closed your eyes.
Thank God you had turned up the music or someone would have surely come in to see if you were ok. How embarrassing, being an avenger only to be taken down by a lamp. No. You were not lazy. You were not weak.
Sucking in a breath you carefully got to your feet trying to avoid the glass. Putting any pressure on the ankle made it feel like you were stepping on a thousand suns, but you simply pushed through. You were not weak. You were an avenger. You moved as fast as possible to clean up the mess, which let's be honest wasn’t very fast.
You swept the glass up and placed the seemingly undamaged corpse of a lamp into a box for later. However, it was now no longer welcome in your new room. No. You made a small pledge to hide that box for when your ankle was better and seek some revenge on the stupid piece of furniture.
You had just finished sealing off the box of nightmares with the packing tape when two short raps came from the open doorway. You turned around as smoothly as you could with the pain in your foot and smiled at Natasha.
“Hey baby, Wanda’s gone to start getting the food ready in the kitchen are you gonna join us?” She asked.
“Yeah sure. Like I’d ever say no to that.” You said trying your best to hide a wince as you took a step towards Nat. Her brow furrowed and eyebrows pinched together as she didn’t miss the action at all.
“Baby? are you ok?” She asked. You wavered but plastered on the fake smile you used for Tony’s galas.
“One hundred percent. Did you get pad Thai?” You asked and tried to change the subject. Nat knew something was wrong and looked you up and down doing a mental scan to find the problem. You knew you were screwed when her eyes zeroed in on your sock. You had slipped it on last minute to hide the cut on your foot and in your haste had managed to miss the fact it had bled through the pale fabric.
Nat was over by your side in an instant, she guided you by your shoulders to the bed and pressed down to make you sit.
“Sit” she said leaving zero room for questions. You simply nodded as she crouched down and placed your foot on her knee. Gently she peeled back the sock and sighed at the semi-deep cut that ran down your heel. Your ankle was swollen and looked angry, and Nat was surprised you were able to walk at all but suspected that the fading adrenaline may have something to do with it.
“Wanda!” She yelled and the two of you heard hurried footsteps and Wanda appeared in the doorway.
“Yes?! Whats the matter?” She asked looking panicked. When she saw the two of you were still alive and breathing, she sighed and placed a hand over her heart.
“Jesus don’t do that nat.” She said. Nat shrugged.
“Sorry baby. Can you grab the first aid kit in the bathroom Y/n/n here felt she could hide something from us.” She said gesturing to the ensuite and then your foot which was propped up in her lap. She was holding the destroyed sock to the cut to stop the bleeding which made you wince. Wanda nodded and disappeared before coming back with the kit and placing it down beside Nat.
Wanda gave the injury a proper look now and softened her gaze and took your hand, rubbing circles on your knuckles with her thumb.
"Oh, my sweet girl you could've come to us. We aren't mad. Let's clean you up" she said.
“I-its fine. Im fine. No problem.” You said and went to move your foot from Nat’s lap who had just finished bandaging the cut. She grabbed your calf gently but tightly and glared at you before softening at the sight of tears in your eyes.
"You can't walk darling; you'll make it worse" she said gently and you huffed.
Wanda stood and sat next to you on the bed and began pressing kisses to your cheek and arms.
“It just means lots of love for our love bug" she said and pulled you in for a hug. Nat nodded and joined the hug.
“Sorry.” You said in a small voice. But Nat hushed you with a kiss to the lips it was soft and tender. When she pulled away, she looked into your eyes.
"Shhh no saying sorry. That’s not necessary sweet girl, you can't help it" she said and rubbed her nose against yours in a gentle moment of pure love.
“Do you want me to bring the food here or Natty can carry you into the lounge so we can prop your foot up to eat? Either way you're getting ice and rest on the ankle.” Wanda said and you let a single tear fall at the tenderness of it all. Wanda was quick to wipe it away and press a kiss to the tear track.
“Baby don’t cry love. We’ve got you honey.” She said and you sniffled.
“The lounge maybe?” You said and Wanda chuckled.
“Of course, sweetheart. Nat?” She said and gestured to you who grinned like a feral animal and scooped you up with little to no warning. You squealed and clutched your arms around her. She laughed deeply and you swatted her chest. The three of you went to the lounge and Nat called Bruce to bring you some crutches for later and Wanda finished prepping the food.
After the three of you were cuddled up under a blanket with ice on your ankle and old movie reruns playing in the background. Soon you drifted to sleep as Wanda ran her hands through your hair and nat traced patterns on your exposed thigh. After all you were only in a large t-shirt and boxers. The rest of the team was away apart from Bruce, but he never left the lab anyway. You we’re content. Happy. Safe. And loved. Life couldn’t get any better.
MASTERLIST
#marvel#the avengers#sicfic#wanda maximoff#wandanat#natasha romanov#wanda marvel#natasha romaoff#wandanat comfort#wandanat x reader#comfort#hurt/comfort#hurt reader#hurt r#injured reader#injured r#light blood#injury#whump#no angst#maybe slight angst#soft wandanat#Thai food#marvel sicfic#Bruce banner#wandanat x r#fluff#marvel comfort fic#self insert#y/n
165 notes
·
View notes
Note
what about getting into an argument with the monster trio </33 craving angst rn
A/N: Hope u don’t mind me taking it a step further with the angst
Also I’m going to separate these because they’re long af.
Zoro Version
Sanji Version
Luffy Version
Breaking up With the Monster Trio (Angst)
Word Count: 6.2k (bruh)
Black Fem Reader in Mind
Ft. Luffy, Zoro, Sanji
CW: Lots of yelling,Implied Cheating, Reader is a Bit Toxic Herself, Cursing, Angst, No Happy Ending, Crying, It is a bit of WCI Spoiler but I tried not to put in too much so I added some situations that wasn’t canon if that makes sense lmao
Zoro
You guys actually are known for arguing in your relationship
You both argue at least once a day over something petty and everybody on the Sunny has come accustomed to it
“YOU CAN’T BRING A SWORD TO A GUN FIGHT ARE YOU INSANE?!”
“DOESNT MATTER I CAN KICK YOU AND ANY OTHER GUNSLINGERS ASS IF I NEEDED TO!”
“SHOCHU IS NOT BETTER THAN SAKE ARE YOU INSANE?!”
“UHHHH YES IT IS?!”
“WHY DO YOU ALWAYS FEEL THE NEED TO RAGE THE HELL OUT WHEN I SPEAK TO SANJI!”
“BECAUSE TWO PERVERTS SHOULDN’T BE IN A ROOM ALONE TOGETHER.”
“KISS MY ASS”
However one day you believe your argument may have turned for the worse.
You and Zoro have been actually having less interactions since you all met back up .
Zoro taken his role as the swordsman of the crew way more seriously and though you respect it and even admire it, it’s just you barely even communicate anymore. Not even petty arguments.
When you do start to try it he just breathes out his nose and finishes what he was doing as if he didn’t care to retort back
It just wasn’t the same between you and Zoro
And you even questioned If you and him were still together
Granted you both didn’t have much time to settle where your relationship was before separating, but you still wanted to at least talk about it, but you both never had time to do so
Intimacy has been long gone. When you seen him again he didn’t even hug you back he just patted your head
He doesn’t sleep in your room anymore. If he does it’s when you’re not in there and busy on watch
It started to get to you.
You wanted to wait and give it time but it’s been weeks now and it’s almost as if he subconsciously just broke up with you over the two years
You tried getting your mind off of it seeing as now there are bigger fish to fry and stronger enemies to defeat
Eventually you and the crew meet Law again and surprisingly you two hit it off better than him and anyone else on the crew.
He didn’t find you annoying—you were level headed and relatively nice to talk to so you managed to keep him company sometimes when he wanted to separate from all of the Strawhats
The attention he gave you was platonic but it was nice none the less—-you even managed to crack a smile out of him a few times
“Y/N-ya. Come help me with this, yeah?”
You both have amazing combat skills together too and it bought you some brownie points with him
Zoro However began to notice this friendship develop immediately
But he didn’t have time to ask you about it he needed to train more
Today though, he had some time
Zoro being Zoro was lost in the forest again but managed to somehow find you and Law sitting across from each other talking. You were laughing with him not even noticing the green haired swordsman approach you from the side.
“Lost again?” Law shot at Zoro still giving you eye contact.
Zoro Just grumbled, “NO! I just happened to find you both…we’re leaving this place soon so you both should wrap up your little date.” You frowned a bit at his tone. Date?
“Date?” You got up to follow him with Law a nice distance behind you both. “We were talking.”
“Yeah you two love doing that—“
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t mean shit. Keep walking.”
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a tiny bit happy seeing that Zoro at least noticed and felt jealous about you and Law’s closeness. In reality though you actually didn’t do that to get back at Zoro you enjoyed Law’s company and was refreshing to be around.
You and Zoro bickered a bit walking around the forest not even realizing you three were walking in circles because ZORO was guiding y’all.
“So if you see me talking to another woman what you’re ganna think I’m gay now?!”
“Go ahead and be gay for all I give a fuck—“
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT IM TRYING TO MAKE—“
“Room.”
You both appeared in front of the Sunny not even realizing it still arguing.
“HEY!” Law yelled getting both of your attention walking in between you both, “We’re back. Come find me when you’re done, Y/N-ya.”
“We’re done Talking actually.” Zoro Shot back heading to the training room.
“Says who?! I ain’t finish asshole the hell is all this passive aggressiveness towards me?!”
“Oh, Shut the fuck up!”
“NO YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO ALL FUCKING MONTH I BEEN TRYING TO TALK TO YOU BUT YOU BEING THE DICK THAT YOU ARE JUST BEEN IGNORING ME AND THE FIRST TIME WE DO YOU WANNA FUCKING ARGUE SO FUCK YOU!”
It got awkwardly quiet on the ship. Sanji, and Nami gasped, Robin covered Chopper’s ears, Luffy and Usopp stopped playing, and Franky & Brook just paused.
Zoro looked like the vein in his head was about to explode. He was irritated beyond belief and the patience he barely had was already ran out.
“Go the fuck up the ladder now.”
You squinted your eyes at him. His teeth was gritted at yours and he began to breath a little harder. If he were to hit you you honestly wouldn’t be surprised at this point. You felt the rage coming from his body, he never got this angry with you and you never got this angry with him.
“If we aren’t ganna resolve our issues then I’m not going no where with you.”
“Resolve what exactly? The fact that you can’t be alone? Or the fact that you got bigger tits and you wanna flaunt them around to every guy you see because you crave male attention —-“
“Ain’t this a bitch— THAT’S what you think I’m doing?! You think I’m being some kind of slut or something?! I don’t need nobody’s mothafuckin’ attention if anything I’d like yours but it seems like your swords have all of it!—“
“Y/N..” Nami whispered, and walked over behind you to grab your arm since you started to approach Zoro as if your were ganna hit him.
She and Robin seen the hurt in your face for a while now when Zoro ignores you, they haven’t said anything about it but they had a feeling a fight like this was bound to happen.
“At least my swords don’t go around cheating.”
“Ch—-YOU THINK IM CHEATING ON YOU?”
“IM NOT FUCKING STUPID Y/N IVE SEEN HOW CLOSE YOUVE GOTTEN WITH THAT TRA-GUY—“
“IM ONLY CLOSE WITH HIM BECAUSE WE HAVE GOOD CONVERSATION. WE. COMMUNICATE. UNLIKE. YOU. AND I.” You pointed your finger back and fourth looking as if you were ready to shoot Zoro right then and there so Nami ran over out of worry and held you back by your arm and Usopp and Brook ran over to hold Zoro back because he had the same angry look in his eyes.
“IF YOU KNEW HOW TO SPEAK I WOULDN’T HAVE TO GO TO TALK TO OTHER MEN. Ever thought about that? Roronoa Zoro?”
Zoro stopped moving and just sighed pulling away from the two and walked the opposite way.
“Then keep communicating with him because we’re through. He can have you.”
It was almost as if none of your points were being heard. Your stomach dropped to your ass hearing him wanting to be done with you.
You scoffed.
Sanji was about to go and beat Zoro possibly to death for how he was speaking to you but you stopped him. It didn’t matter it wasn’t going to change anything.
“NO, ITS NOT OKAY YOU PIECE OF SHIT YOU DON’T TALK TO A WOMAN LIKE THAT—!”
“Sanji!” You Held him back fighting any slick of tear to fall down the rim of your waterline. “It’s fine….leave him.”
-
Weeks have past since the argument, the entire energy of the crew has changed. You and Zoro stayed Your distances and never even spoke a syllable to each other once. You don’t eat with the crew anymore no matter how many times Sanji tries to kick Zoro out, but you just try to avoid the trouble.
The girls tried making you feel better, even Luffy tried by doing stupid faces but you haven’t cracked a smile in you don’t know how long. Your face is deadpanned now but your eyes constantly look sad.
You don’t talk much at all either and it hurts, a literal pain in your chest. You’ve been having headaches and a bit of sickness as well. Usually when you feel bad Zoro pokes fun at you for not having his immune system and holds you all day making Sanji bring you soups and teas. But that’s in the long past and now you’re alone in your room. Eyes were puffy, hair was wrapped in a tight scarf, and you had on nothing but a loose shirt and shorts as everybody except you, Franky, and Chopper were out on some new land. Nothing but the sounds of the crashing water and your subtle sniffles fill the room. You wasn’t sure if it was sniffs from being sick or sad but you didn’t care to figure out which
You sat up and decided to just read a book until you fell asleep again. You rummage through your stuff and found a picture. From two years ago. It was the first time you kissed Zoro and Luffy managed to sneak a lot of pictures, from when you both were caught, to Sanji looking pissed, to Zoro chasing Luffy and Sanji chasing Zoro. It was the first night Zoro confessed, how much you meant to him, how much he loved you, but didn’t “like” you, how much you drove him crazy—
And how much he wanted to be with you even after you both achieved your goals.
All the wonderful memories of you and Zoro pulled out some tears blurring your vision, you laughed at yourself with your cheeks now being stained, how stupid could you be to fall for him so hard?
Your chest hurts again. More than it did before it nearly felt like you couldn’t breathe, you hit the back of the wall and slid down crying in ache and pain in silence. Even moreso because now when you see Zoro from the times you mindlessly glanced at him, he looks happier to be without you than with you.
Is this what a heart break felt like?
-
Sanji
Sometimes you believe Sanji is just a womanizer. And you hate it because it’s actually not true.
You both have been dating for a year and you’ve noticed his simp like attitude for most women haven’t really let up.
You knew he would never touch a woman like how he touches you but sometimes when you want his full attention he can’t seem to focus it if another young woman is calling out his name
You didn’t mind it at first but it’s seems like it has gotten worse.
Granted you both never had time to have sex. It’s been back to back with fighting enemies and a bunch of new people joining on board momentarily.
But today was probably the last straw of his obsession with women
“He’s doing what?!”
“No! It’s not like that he got lured !”
“How the fuck do you get lured to a damn brothel, Franky?! He knows better!”
You stormed out of the ship disregarding your watch durty after hearing the unfortunate news. There is no possible way Sanji could be doing what you think he could.
“You messing with me right?”
Seeing Zoro and Sanji rush out of the worn building fixing up each other’s clothing. You really couldn’t believe your eyes if you were quite honest, your heart and stomach sank all at once. Sure, Sanji was a Flirt, and there were a few times early in your relationship you and Sanji talked about the boundaries you both set for when people hit on either of you, he swore up and down he’d work on doing so and you believed him, but you truly wouldn’t have guessed he’d ACTUALLY cheat on you.
Sanji’s hair was disheveled, tie was slightly undone, and he was flustered. It didn’t take too long to understand what happened.
Sanji However was mortified. He tried to get out of there as quick as he could, but he needed to be helped by Zoro and Luffy to escape.
“WAIT NO Y/N IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE—!”
You scoffed at the typical statement turning the opposite way back to the ship. You were more broken than mad. You held your mouth to conceal your quivering lips trying not to cry in front of anybody and picked up your pace to run as far away from Sanji as you could.
“Dumbass. I told you she’d find out.” Zoro muttered shoulder bumping him.
“Y/N I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”
“Didnt do anything?!” You cried, stopping in your tracks almost causing Sanji to bump into you from how fast he was running towards you, “Sanji…”
You grabbed his cheek with force, squeezing it causing him to flinch, seeing the small lipstick kisses on his cheek so close to the corner of his lips. You immediately imagined him laying with how ever many women, touching, him and to add insult to injury; him enjoying it.
You looked up at the sky, forcing your tears not to escape, but you failed horribly and Sanji’s eyes widened in fear. You drop your hand down and walk away. You didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say because you’d just end up crying even more and that’s one thing you refused to do in front of him or anybody .
You felt so stupid, you knew you shouldn’t have let him in, you were warned by almost everyone to NOT date Sanji, but you seen past that. You didn’t wanna believe the warnings. How stupid could you be? Sanji? Faithful? Doesn’t even make sense unless you put “is not” in between the words.
“Damn it! I never—!” Sanji groaned in frustration running back after you, he knew he messed up BADLY. It wasn’t his intention to go into that brothel! He was actually tricked into going, Zoro warned him not to follow that lady that “needed help”, and the moment he realized where he really was he tried to leave, but women swarmed him trying to get him to stay. The whole story was too good to be true and he knew you wouldn’t buy it.
The moment you arrived back on the ship you felt your blood get hot. The entire walk back you thought about Sanji and those women and the longer your thoughts stayed on that the angrier you became. You had to get a level head though, as much as you wanted to lash out, You knew if you took any action you’d end up regretting it.
“Y/N? You okay?” Robin and Nami seen you nearly sprinting to your room, you didn’t want them to know about the incident so you avoided their gaze.
“I’m—“ you cleared your croaky throat to mask how much you’ve been crying “I’m okay….just need to—to um…”
Nami quickly walked over to you, you got very nasty when you cried. You kept shaking your hands trying to find the words, but the closer the girls approached you the harder it was to conceal any pain you felt. It wasn’t until Robin touched your shoulder that you broke down in their arms about what you seen. You felt so stupid.
Sanji came running back out of breath and he seen you across the ship being held by Robin, your eyes were pink and puffy from rubbing them so harshly out of anger. Nami turned her furious eyes over to the cook ready to kill the man so she stormed over to him.
“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU SANJI?!”
Nami Tore Sanji a new one yelling and hitting him for the pain he caused you after hearing what happened. Honestly, Nami Just began to enjoy watching you and Sanji as a couple. She never thought you guys would last so long considering how he was, but she just started to believe he learned to behave.
You thought the same too.
Robin took you back to her room to calm you down and step away from the commotion, “Are you sure Sanji was really cheating?”
“I know what I saw Robin. He was coming out of the building, putting back on his jacket with lip stains.”
Robin patted your head, she refused to believe Sanji would ever hurt you like that especially from what he told her weeks prior:
“You shouldn’t worry, Sanji you already know what’s she’s going to say..”
“I don’t know…what if—“
“There’s no what if’s. I see the way she looks at you. How much you’ve changed her. She’ll say yes.”
“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU, SANJI?! AFTER ALL YOU BOTH BEEN THROUGH? WAS Y/N NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU?!”
Sanji was on his knees taking every hit Nami had on his head, not even trying to defend hisself she was furious than anything else. She noticed how happier you were with him. How sweet he was to you, and even though she had her doubts she believed in what Robin said.
About 30 minutes past and Robin managed to get you to sleep off your tears. It was needed. She left you in the room to sleep and headed back out to where Sanji was in the kitchen and everybody was getting ready to head back on the not to set sail.
“Sanji…” Robin leaned on the kitchen door, his back was facing hers hunched over a little. She didn’t have to look at his face to know he was sulking. “What really happened back there?”
….
A few hours have pasted and you woke up to a warm presence beside you rubbing your arm, you cracked your eyes open to see Sanji’s blurred figure, but when you pounced up it was nobody.
“Good..” You thought rubbing your eyes. The room was dark hinting it was now later in the night and though you could argue that was the best sleep you’ve had in a while you wish someone would have woke you.
You make up Robin’s bed and head to your own room for the night, not wanting to see anybody else still a bit of anger lingering in your head, however this is the Thousand Sunny where 11 other people live. There is no alone time.
“Get out Sanji…” Was all you groaned rubbing your eyes, seeing him sparked back up that annoyance and seeing his pink eyes really meant nothing right now.
“No. I have to explain—“
“There’s nothing to explain. You wanted to be with those other women…and you did. I’m over it.”
“But thats not what I wanted it was a trick I would never do that! Baby—“
“Don’t ‘Baby’ me if I was your baby you wouldn’t have been in that fucking brothel.— You know what—…”
You wipe your face in frustration and sigh, the last thing you wanted was to just completely scream at him off bat, considering how he reacts to you doing it.
“I can’t keep doing this with you, Sanji. I know I’m not the ideal woman. I’m not as gorgeous as Nami or Robin. I’m not as girly as them. I don’t always dress the best. I have many flaws, but you don’t know the exhaustion I get when I see you give so many women this attention that I want. You don’t understand how it feels to have a partner that is very attractive and can also ATTRACT whatever he wants it’s damn near sickening now because I feel like it’s gotten worse with you and when I seen you with that lipstick I damn near lost my mind…”
Your voice began to crack and tears manages to slowly escape your eyes.
“I knew what I was getting into when you asked me out but I don’t know…sometimes I feel like…you settled…and…it sucks because I never felt that way with you…and..”
You couldn’t even finish. You just wanted to pour your heart out because you hated keeping in your feelings, but it was all too overwhelming and you just broke down. Sanji immediately grabbed you to hold you and in that moment he was whispering small apologizes and it did… it did feel good to be held by him,
But it was wrong. Because he does this same routine to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, Y/N…please…I made a mistake I’d never…” His lips right over yours as your face was in his neck leaning in closer, “Please know Id never hurt you..” His mouth began to inch closer to yours, but you pushed back harshly nearly making him fall.
“No! You don’t get to touch me! You always do that Sanji when I get upset with you and it just leads to me forgiving you again and us having sex I don’t want that! I’m tired! I’m tired of being hurt! IT’S THE SAME BULLSHIT ROUTINE WITH YOU AND THESE WOMEN SANJI—- DO YOU KNOW HOW I FELT BACK WHEN I FOUND OUT YOU WERE MARRYING THAT GIRL?! YOU NEVER EVEN ASKED ME IF I WAS OKAY WHEN YOU CAME BACK YOU JUST ASSUMED EVERYTHING WAS FINE AND DANDY?! I STILL THINK AND WONDER IF MAYBE YOU REALLY DID WANTED TO MARRY HER AND IT WASNT BECAUSE YOU WERE ‘FORCED’…”
“Y/N I DID IT TO PROTECT YOU! I WANT TO BE WITH YOU I ONLY THOUGHT OF YOU I’D NEVER EVER PURPOSELY TRIED TO HURT YOU EVER THEY WERE ALL MISTAKES! THEY WERE ALL SITUATIONS I COULDN’T GET OUT OF, BUT YOU NEED TO KNOW THAT IF I COULD CHANGE MY DECISION I WOULD AND YOU KNOW THIS!”
The arguing continued. Neither of you were willing to hear out the other without cutting each other’s sentences. This was probably the first argument you and Sanji ever had where he was actually upset and not willing to back down.
“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LISTEN TO ME AND BELIEVE ME—“
“I DON’T HAVE TO BELIEVE SHIT SAN—you know…” you pull your faces with your palms groaning until it transitions into a frustrated scream, you were over it. You had a headache and just wanted to sleep. “Just get out Sanji. I don’t wanna hear your voice right now.”
If the room was quiet with no background noises of the sea you could have actually heart break. You didn’t change your face, you were exhausted, but a small part of you felt immediate guilt seeing his shocked and saddened reaction, but you were stubborn.
“….does this mean we’re through?”
You could hear the cracks in his voice, eyes already threatening to water, you immediately avoided his sorrowed face and paused for a moment leaving the awkward quiet tension in the air so thick you can cut it with a knife.
You nodded.
Sanji couldn’t contain his tears, they flooded his cheeks, mouth parted he fell to the ground on his knees reaching up to your leg to hold them. He couldn’t believe it he didn’t want this to be true.
“Please…please no please don’t leave me….I can’t lose you I’m so sorry. Please.” Sanji couldn’t even make coherent words he sobbed on your legs, it shattered you immensely.
Your hands hesitantly touch his head but retracted it and instead pull him off. “You have to get out, Sanji…”
“I’m not leaving until we talk this out—“
“Get the fuck out before I make you get out.”
Your voice was cold like ice sounding as if you didn’t want to be in his presence, but Sanji couldn’t be fooled that easily. You couldn’t even speak to his face, you were fighting back tears yoursef, lips quivering and words were shaky. It was your anger talking and you knew this, but you didn’t care to just look at him to listen, to hear him, to understand, and fix the relationship. Instead. You wanted to just run away.
Sanji got off his knees, head low like a puppy wiping his eyes, his body felt weighed down, he was defeated, but he didn’t want to take the loss.
“I’m not letting you go, Y/N…ever….so..don’t think—“
“JUST LEAVE SANJI!”
You back was faced to him right before he shut the door and in a quick motion you sat on your bed and screamed your heart out in a pillow. Sanji heard, chest in pain, he leaned on your door crying as well.
Words couldn’t express this pain, it was as if your entire life came crashing. This wasn’t supposed to happen between you both.
This wasn’t supposed to end.
-
Luffy
How dense Luffy can be can really be exhausting
He was too trusting for his own good and though you once admired you now have grown to be annoyed with it
Maybe it was your fault
Maybe you were over reacting, but really? He couldn’t even take your side ?
But IT WAS BOA. You hated her! And Luffy knew this.
Luffy was also very emotionally intelligent, it was impressive how quick he can notice how you can feel, but that didn’t mask how dense he can be handling your emotions.
Boa was once again back and with Luffy, they were on the furthest part of the deck speaking. It’s been a week and for some reason she was still here. She claims it was to “check up on Luffy”, but for what? Y’all JUST reunited a few weeks ago and Boa has been back and fourth coming and going on the ship as she pleases and it began to irk you.
Everybody knew about her obsession with your captain except your own damn captain. The way her touched lingered, the way she blushed when talking to him, the way she would do pretty much anything for him.
It. Irked. You.
She was aware of your relationship with Luffy, which was why you both have had a few heated arguments before. The last one resulting in you nearly drawing your gun at her. It was embarrassing on your end because you never was the type to fight over a man, but this man in particular doesn’t understand when a woman that isn’t his is blatantly flirting and touching all on him and how much it eats up at you.
And everybody is aware of this. So much so that everybody purposely tries to occupy you from seeing the two today to keep things cordial.
“Are you tryna distract me?” Your tone slightly above a tease crossing your arms at Sanji Would was being more than overbearing to keep you in the kitchen with him.
“What?! No I could never! Just keep reading in here, Y/N-San!” He had a cold sweat immediately seeing Boa and Luffy now outside the door giggling and eating together. She brought him a bunch of food as another one of her “gifts” and at that very moment Luffy was tone deaf to everything in sight. Sanji noticed the beautiful woman inch closer and closer their shirtless captain and an instant chill ran down his spine on the possibility of what you’d do.
You shrugged, somewhat naive to what’s happening, you continued to finish your book, giving Sanji a sigh of relief back to his stove. The background noise of the kitchen eventually became tuned out while diving deep into your book. All was well until—-
“OH LUFFY I LOVE YOU!”
It felt like time froze, hearing that unbearable voice, you knew exactly who it was.
“SHE’S HERE AGAIN!?”
You slam your book on the table leaving it behind as you storm out. When you came outside your eyes were met with the same bullshit sight that always led you and Bo to fight
Her breasts smothering Luffy’s face and him not paying any kind to it.
“Oh Luffy! I— oh. MMPH.” Once again . Boa was being too touchy for your liking and it made your eye twitch. Her snarky attitude towards you and you only made you unreasonably upset. The way she’d sometimes purposely touch and cope a feel of Luffy in front of you just for Luffy to laugh at the situation and think you both actually don’t have beef with each other .
“Oh hey Y/N!” Luffy pulled from Boa’s grip to run over to you with his typical Happy Hour lucky smile. He didn’t a care in the world seeing you looking so upset but the tall woman now behind him did.
“Oh Luffy it was so amazing seeing you again! I’m so glad you—-“
Boa’s compliments and heart eyes went through one eye and out the other with you considering you kept getting irritated the longer she lingered on the ship. You wasn’t in the mood to argue with her, but that didn’t stop you from pulling Luffy away as she inches closer by reflex as if you were a child not wanting to share your toy.
Boa noticed this and immediately grumbled in irritation.You clearly don’t understand how angry you make this woman. Your boyfriend just pulled into your touch closer as he ate which in turned made her heart sting, but before she had another dramatic fit an idea came to mind.
“Before I go Luffy I just wanted to let you know that if you need anything just send me a call okay? …and my offer still stands with you about our…little agreement. Remember?”
Luffy furrowed his eyebrows a bit humming in thought trying to remember what “agreement” she was offering. She has made so damn many to him involving getting married who knows what this would be?
“Uh…”
“Oh you don’t remember? Before you left your training we had such an unforgettable night and—“
“OOOOOH! Oh yeah no thanks!” Luffy laughs scaring his head, “Yeah no I’m fine I have Y/N for that!”
It was like Boa nearly turned into stone herself , her face was dumbfounded and her heart was stung, as much as she wanted to cry and plead for Luffy to take her up on her “offer” she had to go but promised to be back soon. The moment she left it was almost as if everybody could breathe again and went back to their devices, but you however dwelled in the whole “offer” situation and how Luffy stated he had you for that.
After lunch Luffy and you were on the Sunny doing your daily fishing routine you both typically started doing when you both began dating. It was peaceful and sweet feeling Luffy happily hun and lean on your shoulder, but you just couldn’t relax until your curiosity subsided.
“Lu?”
“Hm? You caught a fish?!” He sat up ready to help pull your fishing rod, but you grab his wrist.
“No! No not that! I just…Um…okay what did Boa mean by ‘offer’?”
“Huh?”
“When she said you guys had an unforgettable night and—“
“Ohh! Oh That!” Luffy laughs and pats your head. “So before I left she accidentally kissed me and th—“
“She what?” You felt your stomach turn a little, sunk really.
“She kissed me! But she apologized so it was an accident ..anyways she said that we should have one night of uh…” Luffy scratched his head trying to think of the word she used. “What’s that word Sanji uses a lot? Starts with a P?”
Your eyes widen in horror on the possible answer he may say,
“PASSION THATS THE WORD!” Luffy chuckles pointing his finger upwards, “a night of passion, I didn’t know what she meant until she said ‘made love’. At the time I still didn’t understand but I remember that’s what you call what we do sometimes so I said no.”
“Luffy i thought you said I was your first kiss.”
“You were!”
“No.” You stood up crossing your arms, “I wasn’t if that stupid bitch kissed you.”
“Woaaahh!” Luffy laughs a little making your eye twitch in annoyance as he gets up, “you mad?”
“No I’m not mad.”
“Yes you are? You only curse when you’re mad.”
“I’m not fucking mad I’m irritated!”
“Same thing.”
“IT’S NOT LUFFY! Why does she keep coming back we don’t need her help anymore we are GOOD!”
Once again you began to Nager and complain about Boa and her presence which always made Luffy Just roll his eyes playfully. He never understood why you were always so mad when she was around but after learning that they both had the opportunity to have sex AND she kissed him you now had a better reason to explain.
“I don’t understand what the big deal is y/n it’s just a kiss. Besides we weren’t dating and I wasn’t thinking about you when it happened.” Luffy shrugged it off taking away your rod to finish fishing, “what?”
“Don’t what me?! You let her kiss you?!”
“I wouldn’t say let..she just did it, who cares?”
“I do, Luffy! You said I was your first kiss! When I asked you about you and Boa you said nothing happened you don’t remember?!”
“It’s not a big deal, y/n calm down and sit with me!” he reached out for you to sit on his lap with a bright smile but all you could do was sit there with a gaped mouth.
Your captain wasn’t the best with words, but damn he could have worded it better. The mere thought of Luffy and Boa being so close made your head spin. And you knew. You knew Boa said it Just to get a rise out of you, and she succeeded because you completely ignored Luffy and headed to your room for the rest of the vending leaving him confused for a moment.
You were quiet all dinner. Not even sitting next to Luffy like you usually do and he seemed not to noticed which piled on to the anger you already had.
He was acting as if he didn’t know you were mad at him and it made you mad.
Were you overreacting possibly?
Even if you were you don’t care to listen to reason right now you’re pissed and want to be alone.
“There you are!” Luffy laughs busting in your room in the late evening to see you buried like burritos in your blankets back facing him. “I thought we were ganna take a bath together.”
“Take it yourself.” Your words are mumbled by the covers. Luffy tilts his head confused at your cold tone, he once again shrugs it off to get in the bed with you to hold you but you wiggle out of his grasp making him whine at your attitude.
“Y/NNNN COMMONNNN IM COLD!” He snatches the blanket off , your warm body now shivering in the cold.
“Luffy for fucks sake—“
“You cussed again. You’re mad—“
“I’m not fucking mad Luffy can’t you ever just read the room?! I had other blankets you could use!”
In your mind your really didn’t want to curse Luffy out. He obviously didn’t deserve it but you’ve been alone in your room all day replaying scene with him and Boa in your head and you just could NOT think about it.
Luffy tries to pull your arm to sleep back with him but you instead pull away to put one some sweats.
“Where are you going?! You don’t have watch duty!”
“I’ll be back Luffy.”
“You always walk away when you’re mad .”
“What?!”
“You do. It’s kinda annoying honestly . Just lay back in bed with me—“
“I said I’ll be back Luffy!” You tried to hide the annoyance in your voice but failed miserably. Was he wrong though? You run away from any issues you tend to have with Luffy and he always calls you out on it. It almost felt like you wanted to cry right on the deck out of frustration. You ended up not sleeping I with him that night. He didn’t seem to mind or ask.
Then one night turned into two.
Then three.
Then a month.
It almost became like you both drifted away. Luffy stopped coming in your room to bother you, you both don’t hang out as much, Luffy seemed normal, you also seemed okay, but every once in a while you felt almost as if you both subconsciously broke up.
He watched you from a distance dancing and laughing with Nami and his cheeks warmed ever so slightly. You have been quieter around him, he didn’t seemed to mind it, but maybe he was over thinking.
But he wasn’t, it’s been 4 months and even though you were still with the Strawhats it was almost as if your relationship has diminished. It was no longer the same between you both, no more fun exchanges, no more inside jokes, no more late night food runs. It was all just
Gone.
And you both ignored how it made you both really feel.
#sanji#TimikosMonsterTrio#sanjionepiece#one piece headcanons#sanji imagine#black reader#sanji x black reader#sanji x reader#one piece x female reader#one piece x black!reader#female reader#x female reader#zoro headcanons#luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy#luffy#op sanji#sanji x y/n#zoro hcs#luffy headcanons#monster trio#monster trio x reader#one piece angst#zoro angst#sanji angst#black foot sanji#one piece scenario#ronoroa zoro#one piece zoro#one piece analysis
633 notes
·
View notes
Note
apologies but i’m high rn and i’m thinking of hyuka and ur the first person who came to mind. but i’m thinking about how hyuka would probably be a biter and a squeezer when he cums like. gets so overwhelmed, he gets a handful of whatever squish he can find on ur body and holds on for dear life. he’d feel so bad cuz it’ll leave marks and make you so sore but you love it so much that 90% of the time it brings you right over the edge with him. even better if kai’s inexperienced and doesn’t get that cumming at the same time is not that common, ur just a lil freak that loves to be manhandled lmfao
cw. biting, nail marks, sex (protection not mentioned/implied), chubby!reader, inexperienced kai, mentions of [hair pulling, choking, being tied up] but none of it actually happens lol, i think that's it.
OK ANON WHAT THE FUCK
ahem
first of all- so flattered that *i’m* the first person to come to mind when thinking of hyuka??? that’s so sweet im blushing down rn *^^*
but yes. kai is definitely a biter LOL and ur so right about him being inexperienced and not knowing cumming at the same time isn’t common TT that’s so cute i never thought of that!!! so, like, ehehehe thank you for feeding me today.
anyway- i can really really see the biting thing fr like in missionary (the actual best position tbh) with his face buried in ur shoulder, whimpers and breaths ringing in ur ears.
and like (idgaf if this is an overused trope lmao it’s overused for a reason) inexperienced but doesn’t know how fkn good at fucking you he actually is.
and you don’t wanna overwhelm him with the things that are a lil rougher—hair pulling, choking, being tied up—just yet. but those lil pangs pain from of things he’s doing but doesn’t even know he's doing it. he's just too overwhelmed with pleasure and how amazing you feel <3
and when he does come to his senses and catches his breath again after having an incredible orgasm, he sees the marks all over your body- the teeth marks on ur shoulder, the crescent moons from his nails on ur tit, on ur thigh, on ur waist...he apologizes over and over again. just i'm so sorry- ohmygod. did i hurt you? i didn't mean to. i promise i was trying to be gentle. i was just- you just felt so good. and ur body feels so nice—you have to break him out of his panic like kai, kai calm down- it's okay. i liked it. didn't u feel me cum at the same time? running ur fingers thru his hair while he's all pouty but—
well no i didn't actually...but isn't that what's supposed to happen? nd u just giggle at how absolutely adorable he is :( no that's not what typically happens, but that's okay. that's a good thing. that's how much i liked you squeezing and biting me LOL and he gets this look on his face like ...oh. o.O and breaks out into the cutest giggle u've ever seen.
i need him lmfao
109 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi!! Love your artwork and your Charlastor AU with Dawn!!
I was wondering if you think Alastor would make any dawn-themed dad jokes and puns in your AU, and if he does, what would Dawn and Charlie think of them? I can’t really think of any off the top of my head right now, but I know ‘a brand new dawn’ is a phrase he could maybe use!
Again, love your art!!! If you don’t mind answering questions about it, do you have any advice for artists who want to improve their drawing or any practices that have helped you develop your skills? And are there any particular artists that really inspire you?
You’re one of my favorite artists and I don’t know how to explain it but your drawings have so much life in them!! 🌟
sdlksdflkj thank you so much omg!!!
I'm so glad you're enjoying them ;W;
And he would be insufferable with them lmfaoo, especially because I'm sure Charlie would hop in on a few of them and add to the pile as well xD
One more I can think of rn is "Oh, I was wondering where the sun went!" whenever Dawn enters a room, because the implied punchline is "but then it Dawned on me" or something? XD idk I'm not good with puns sadly
Now regarding the art advice!! This one got HELLA long so I'll hide it under a cut for everyone's comfort lmao
I know it sounds shallow and like worthless advice, but a huge huuuuge part of getting better at art is to just... make art! Practice makes perfect - it develops your motor skills, gives you somewhat of a muscle memory for certain basic shapes that are a necessity to have a good feel of for good foundation sketching.
Practice also develops your eye for compositing and for how color theory actually applies in practice, it basically helps you develop a more consistent grasp on art as a whole :D
There are some things I've learned over time that definitely helped speed things up though xD
here's some rough sketches I did just to demonstrate what my rougher drawings can look like - also a little diagram (on the right side of the image) of things I keep in mind for the average proportions of a human body!
I tend to sketch very loosely and try to capture the overall vibe and silhouette/rough shapes first before I even think about adding details - there's a certain flow, squish and stretch to everything that's just much easier for me to get a good feel for when I use quick, loose brush strokes and as few lines as possible to convey a concept.
Repeatedly sketching humanoid characters of various shapes, builds and sizes for years genuinely helped enormously in getting not only faster but also more consistent with it!
I'm fairly well practiced with hands and expressions especially at this point since I like to focus on those in my art often, so those come fairly easily to me as well now!
Something I learned along the way about keeping a certain liveliness to my artworks is that sometimes you have to forego anatomical correctness a bit if you want to fully express specific emotions - if you try too hard to keep everything perfectly proportional and realistic, it can make the outcome look stiffer than you might've aimed for - this is something I actually struggle with in my cleaner artworks :'D The ones I do proper lineart for, since a lot of the flow of the original sketch gets lost in the process haha
As for artists/artstyles that inspire me...
There's @/southpauz for example!
Her artstyle is unbelievably expressive and her eye for compositing and her use of shapes is SUBLIME - it inspired me to let loose more with my expressions, exaggerate features a bit more and to push the way I try to vary facial features :D
Then, back when I had that massive Rise of the TMNT phase, the artstyle of it has actually greatly influenced how I draw today!
It manages to be detailed and highly recognizable despite its deceivingly simple style - it exaggerates shapes and uses it to communicate personalities, emotions and action super effectively and taught me a lot about utilizing those more efficiently myself :D
And last but not least Ishida Sui - the mangaka behind Tokyo Ghoul (which used to be a highschool obsession of mine)
His striking use of colors, textures in abstract, yet symbolically heavy ways and his courage to be rough and expressive rather than looking polished, yet also having such a solid understanding of realism blew me the fuck away as a teen and still does now!!!
His art may have less of an influence on my style today than it used to back then, but I think in my more exagerrated, more horror-esque drawings you can kind of see it still :'D Either way I greatly admire him as both a writer and artist.
-----
I'm genuinely so so flattered that you enjoy what I do enough to give me such high praise, thank you so much for writing me such a wonderful ask <3 I'm glad I got to gush about some of my favorite artists/artstyles for a bit haha
If you have any more specific (digital) art related questions don't hesitate to reach out!! I love giving pointers about a subject I'm so passionate about, we don't gatekeep helpful information in this house!!! <3<3<3
40 notes
·
View notes
Note
I- WOOPS- dang it I feel so embarrassed now-
My deepest apologies, I didn't mean to do that! XD
I really should check twice next time, huh?-
But... Honestly? Now that you mentioned it, I would actually love to see your take on it!
So may I please request your interpretation on any of the boys falling for a male mc?
Thank you and once again I'm really sorry, I'll make sure to double check next time-
Silver, Deuce, Ace, Epel Realizing They Gay/Bi Af
Silver is short because he is the Middle Child of TW with his lack of character traits and screentime. Decided to cut out Riddle cause I wasn't feeling it.
Yuu is male and is heavily implied to be Yuuken. I didn't decide a sexuality for any of them as its not my style but they Def fruity. Crack lmao.
Silver
It will take a while to even realize he has a crush. Silver didn’t get the nickname ‘Jellyfish’ for no reason. He isn’t the brightest with social cues and takes everything literally. It’s amusing, infuriating, and endearing all at once. One can only wonder how the wise and mischievous Lilia raised such a boy.
With that being said, if it wasn’t for his father, he would have never even realized he had a crush. The old fae would often watch from afar as he watched the young man that enamored his son, positively tickled at what interactions unfolded.
Silver simply thinks that they are both just friends, like how he and Sebek are. I mean sure, he does find himself genuinely smiling when you wait for him to wake up, and sometimes he finds the look in your eyes when parrying his sword invigorates him, but that's no big deal. He just looks up to Yuu and admires him is all.
It wasn't until one day when Yuu was changing in front of him that it set in. The sight of his bare, muscular back drenched in sweat after another heavy training session had him staring, not even realizing he was out of breath from how he was holding. Lilia is laughing so hard internally rn.
When Silver eventually approaches his father and tell him about these strange feeling he gets whenever he's around Yuu does it click. Mostly because Lilia spelled it out for him. “You're in love, son.” Now Lilia is actually snickering at Silver's shocked face as he skips over all the stages of grief straight to acceptance. He closes his eyes in a mix of embarrassment and shame as he puts it all together.
No wonder he would stare at his butt a lot.
Deuce
Oh boy, this poor thing is so confused.
You see back when he was in his bad boy phase he had no time for love. It would make him look dumb and weak. He was supposed to be cool.
And now here he is madly in love with his classmate— his friend. It was all on that fateful day in the mines.
Despite it being his mess Yuu still decides to help him. They went into the mines and risked their life for him. He came up with a brilliant plan and fight that strange monster that attacked them just for his sake.
And even then they continued to be so kind and sweet. They helped him study and pass his classes! They sparred together, worked out, went on jogs. They talked about cars and blastcycles and machines. They were a perfect match.
It definitely didn't help that Yuu had a defined body from himself as well, with beautiful features accompanying his face. With arms and body built from kendo drills and dueling blots, he was like a work of art.
Definitely doesn't understand what's happening to him when he feels his face get warm from looking at them, of how his chest tightens whenever he sees them chopping it up with another man.
He thinks it's just very strong admiration he feels for them at first! Of course, he likes you! You've always been there for him! You're his friend! And yet when his homosexual thoughts continue he doesn't understand.
Asks Ace to punch him. "Woah bro, are you serious?! I mean I have no problem with punching you, but what's this about?" "It's nothing, just do it!"
Ace finds out and absolutely teases Deuce, making kissing noises whenever he catches him looking at Yuu.
Calls his mother like the Chad he is and talks about it. As he's ranting about how great Yuu is and how they helped him grow as a person, and how he wants to be the very best he can be, Mama Spade starts crying a bit.
"Ah, Mom?! I'm sorry! I didn't-" "Oh Deuce…" Mama Spade supremacy. She's so supportive and happy he came out and found a man that makes him happy! She is giving all sorts of advice to her baby and wishes him the best.
With all that Deuce is now much more confident about pursuing his crush! But first, he must become the very best he can be for them! He promises to better himself for his sake!
Epel
Help him. No, seriously he is pissed.
He already struggles with toxic masculinity, this is just going to make it worse. He can't be gay! It would be expected! He’s already short and girly already, of course, everyone would assume he's gay!
He will avoid you like the plague for a while until Vil snaps some sense into him. Vil can sense it from a mile away, this is just embarrassing. After a very embarrassing lecture, made worse by Rook's unneeded commentary, he accepts it. It is still a bit awkward for a bit afterward since Yuu doesn't understand why the hell Epel is staring at him so intently.
Epel will try to overcompensate for these feelings of feminity still by working out. Surely if he gets bigger and more muscular, it would be more surprising and unexpected for him to like men! Vil is sighing but knows that Epel will have to learn this lesson the hard way.
Poor Epel is trying to impress Yuu so bad too with his strength, flexing his muscles as Yuu looks on with a blank face. Curse them and their stupid height, and stupidly their huge muscles and their handsome… masculine features… He means stupid!
I do think he would talk to his mom about it too, telling her that there's some fellow that has him feeling some sort of way and ends up being super surprised by how happy his mother is for him. Of course, she does still say to be a gentleman and also ends up lecturing him.
Even though he's still a bit confused, that call has him much more ready to accept his feeling. Ah, but how is he going to confess…
He also asked Ace to smack him.
Ace
The disaster baby bi/gay himself. This man is so far in the closet that he is at a gay bar in Narnia, someone help him. (Average Ginger Behavior)
Deny. Deny. Deny. Sorry but there is no way he is in love, especially with some dude. He’s tried dating in High School and Middle School and it always sucked. He cringes at the memory of ghosting his homecoming sweetheart after the dance comes back to him. She was so… boring, that entire relationship was. Plus it's not like he really liked her either.
But hypothetically, if he did like dudes, then that would make his past relationships make a lot of sense… But wait, what if just liked both like Cater or Vil does? Nah he's not feminine enough… Wait, it's not feminine to like men, if anything it's more masculine— wait…
Maybe he should ask Azul’s gay ass. He's seen the way he looks at Jamil.
He hates these stupid mushy gushy feelings inside of him. Going soft or turning into a lovestruck fool is so not like him. Yet here he was, face tinted pink as he watches Yuu and Silver practice their blade work against each other. the way those strong forearms refused to waiver, how his posture remained perfect, and his stance stood powerfully amongst his foe.
How he would love those hands around him— Okay fine, maybe he does like them! But even then how would he go about asking Yuu out?! He finds himself staring intensely at Yuu’s back as they walk back to Ramshackle with Grim tucked into their side. Deuce just awkwardly stared at Ace. “Um… Are you okay?” “IT’S NOTHING!’
And now since Deuce was confused he was back at square one: denial. At this point, Yuu shouldn't be surprised if Ace one day takes him by the hand and skips with him deep into the closet together as they seal their lips together with a ‘no homo’ whispered between them.
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#male reader#male mc#ace trappola x reader#ace trappola#deuce spade x reader#deuce spade#silver vanrouge x reader#silver vanrouge#silver twst#epel felmier#epel felmier x reader
591 notes
·
View notes
Text
gonna be reading the husky and his white cat shizun vol 1 for the first time, so i've decided to humiliate my future self by making predictions based on the summary or whatever rn. feel free to laugh at me if i get things terribly wrong
just based on the cover, im thinking mo ran was this determined, loyal, and playful guy maybe? awfully trusting? idk he just kinda gives off jokingly smug energy and is probably un serious most of the time which gets on the other guy's nerves. or, he's just. super dedicated. though maybe he's a little overbearing with it?
in the extra picture, his shizun has this armor arm (but not on the cover?), which, to me, implies that something pretty wack happens, leaving him needing to replace it with that badass magic steel limb. mayyybeee this happened in mo ran's old life already or this is a new thing that surprises him
probably really looked up to his quiet shizun, who can be quite easy to annoy (mo ran annoys him to no end because of his constant yapping idk) but would never actually lay a hand on his disciples? or just be pretty light compared to the other shizuns either bc he prefers to use other ways as punishment or doesn't feel the need to for one reason or another. elegant and refined, but maybe a little lazy. he doesn't really look like the type of person to go out of their way to punish or fight
something happened that was actually just this huge misunderstanding or his shizun had to do something pretty fucked which led mo ran into complete despair, being betrayed by his teacher (trust and abandonment issues? yes please). before, he had a crush on his shizun but didn't really realize it? but now he couldn't care less than to create this super elaborate revenge plan, those unknown feelings either buried or wiped clean away
mo ran was low-key depressed after becoming emperor because it purely just to fuck with his shizun and make things terrible and out of spite or whatever. so then he ended his life because nothing was going his way, expecting to be happy with his path of revenge. but now that he's back in time, he goes, "oh i should play it smarter this time, now that i know of my shizun's true nature! i'll get him back. maybe if i get rid of him early, then i wont have to suffer longer. i'll also get revenge on everyone else earlier!" or smth like that idk
but of course, his plans kinda get fucked and slowly he starts seeing sides to his shizun that he didn't see before bc he heavily idolized him in his past life, ignoring everything else. his newfound hatred has kinda brought a new perspective? which is surprisingly helpful but also not, since he's now villainizing his every move and is super distrustful.. straight up in denial about his shizun's good deeds. maybe mo ran will instinctually save him at one point and beat himself over it, or his shizun will save him even though he really, REALLY had no reason to/actively went out of his way which really messes up mo ran's feelings.
anyways, i'll be off to read it now. we shall see how wrong i am lmao
#im gonna get things terribly wrong i know#idk what else to expect besides that im just yapping#expecting this to be much more serious than svsss#no dick jokes here alright....#looking at u cumplane#i think itd be a cool plot twist if his shizun actually time traveled back in time too/remembered everything#and was nicer to mo ran or whatever. tryna prevent his death n stuff#or because he doesnt want mo ran to become a tyrant#so things change.....?#and then mo ran finds out and he thinks 'that fucker only changed bc of this and that not bc he actually cared abt me'#yeah idk#im a little too used to svsss#lol#mo ran#chu wanning#the husky and his white cat shizun#2ha#2ha novel
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
FSR Rambles 15 times Shadow took the kids
Dark's utterly confused face here sends me every time.
Because DARK knows that Shadow doesn't actually give a rats ass if he's okay. HOWEVER.
This is where Dark's weird understanding of lying comes in.
Because I have faith in you you can see right through Dark's clear lies.
His phrasing is ridiculous paired with his expression being deader than a fish.
Dark is lying through his teeth here and guess who taught him how to do that... :)
Vio and Shadow-
Vaati fell for it. Lmao. Not like he hasn't been betrayed before.
Shadow tries intimidation buuuuut-
Well shit that only goes so far when you haven't proved yourself to act on said intimidation.
Shadow is still afraid of Vaati, and we know from Zelda's fight with him Vaati isn't easy to kill soooooo.
Reasonably so I'd say.
Dark is saying what we've all been thinking "Lmao let's just pull out Vio and the McGuffin sword"
Lol wait- Oh yeah Vio can't because of Dark.
Haha. Woopsie.
Dark going to just deal with it himself and being reeled back by Shadow is sweet to an extent.
Dark's confused about what this physical interaction means, whether or not this counts as a hug. Because let's be real Vaati isn't something he considers as a threat rn what else is his mind gonna focus on?
Shadow's angry Dark's so reckless but Dark's unfazed by the entire situation.
It's sad to consider Dark probably assumes temper tantrums are a normal behavior considering how frequent everyone he's watched so far has em...Just a thought.
Ngl Shadow's use of the word "Fool" in the OG manga always got a laugh out of me. His dialogue is so evil villain I try to capture that in FSR Shadow.
Shadow wanted to try to formulate a plan with Dark to get Vaati to go away but Dark questions why they'd even do that. Flabbergasting the fuck out of Shadow.
Dark HAS no sense of people working with HIM. Obviously Dark would know what team work is since...He's literally watching the team work pride parade but no one has offered HIM team work.
Vaati just bosses him around after all.
Dark's thought process on how his existence works is on full display.
He's alone. He WORKS alone and no body but him is going to get things done. Thanks Vaati.
...There's also the angle to consider he's actually learned this behavior in some capacity from Link...Link HAS been doing this shit by himself for a long time now....
So Shadow offering help is smth that gives him pause.
In the last pane the motif of Dark Link being his own cheer leader/being generally self aggrandizing pops up again.
His wording just being odd aside, he doesn't communicate what he actually WANTS to do, just that he needs Shadow's help getting close...
and from the quotes around help and the knowledge Dark can move fast as fuck on the reader's side, it's implied Dark is just placating Shadow's idea of helping rather than Shadow being actually useful in this interaction. At least from Dark's perspective.
Shield is up boys RUN FOR YOUR LIVES.
Shadow points out reasonably Dark is not being a very good team mate. XDDD
Be nice to him Shadow he's new to this whole "Team" thing.
Panel 2 here is funny because Dark makes the most NON Dark Link expression it stands out particularly just because it's funny but also like, take note of what he called Vaati here.
He just called him "Vaati".
Not "Master Vaati" or "Lord Vaati"
Just Vaati... HMM.
He also flung himself at Vaati full force so there's that.
OH FUCK IT'S YAOI- Oh a serious note...
Prepare to get bamboozled.
Yeah there's a reason Vaati is fucking confused. Dark was taking another conversation out of context to try and comfort Vaati.
So if there was any doubt about if that was what Dark was doing or not: Let me put those questions to rest that is what he was trying to do. XD
The kiss particularly is funny considering...Well yeah Shadow did kiss Vio a lot.
Shadow being, reasonably flabbergasted at this interaction just gets a laugh out of me.
Vaati's got nothing to say that shit hah. Dark isn't making MUCH sense in this interaction.
Dark does show he's still loyal in some way to Vaati though.
Turns out: Vaati's just not in the mood to deal with Dark's nonsensical behavior and points out an...interesting caviat to the whole "let's recruit Dark link" plan.
They have to kill him.
In no uncertain terms, to destroy the curse would be to destroy Dark Link. So having him on your side really doesn't mean anything. As he'll do what he was created for by nature.
In a way it brings you to question how much free will Dark truly has in this equation. Also, it makes you kinda realize in a messed up way Dark and Link both suffer due to the curse. They're chained to each other on a drowning ship.
Shadow's hypocrisy on display again. He JUST helped this dude and now thinks about killing him. XD
But also: What's the answer to this?
It's a train track scenario in a lot of ways.
Also since Dark's a curse, destroying his body or hurting him won't do much good to actually get rid of the curse itself.
His body will just regenerate or he'll retreat into the headspace.
There's also the thought of, if Link died, what WOULD happen to Dark Link...
Dark is insanely hard to argue with. Because dude can read you like a book and play you like a fiddle.
You can't LIE to him and he'll speak how he feels based on what he's seen.
Like, Dark isn't even just slinging the "you're gannon" ace up his sleeve card at him. He's bringing up things Shadow himself has actually DONE. And that pisses Shadow off.
No matter how much Shadow removes himself from his past self, he still DID those things.
And it does bring to question which of these two are more "Moral".
Dark hasn't killed anyone while it's at least heavily implied in the manga Shadow at least COULD HAVE and shows the willingness to do so to Vio at least.
Dark's "reason" for not killing people is "They stop being fun."
Dead people are boring. Like Link's dad. Which is just, a roast and a half.
Dark takes his aim and fires. Bro doesn't miss a shot. He'll drag everyone.
Shadow also has hurt Vio.
Really the idea Shadow and Dark have a LOT in common is a theme.
Like Shadow can get pissed off as much as he wants at Dark, he's done WAY WORSE than this lil demon guy and can't even argue about that.
The question of how much Dark truly means here is also up in the air as Dark will just say things on other's minds.
Reminder Dark is straight terrified of Shadow Link and just kinda shuts down when Shadow gets peak pissed off at him.
Dark sees Vaati as a fool who needs his help, and seeks Shadow as a threat who's going to hurt him.
Usually actions would speak louder than words, but in Dark's case feeling someone's emotions is 10xs more important. And what Dark knows is Shadow genuinely despises him.
Haha remembering the time pig dad abused you.
But this time Shadow takes the place of gannon being the threatening imposing force.
Thought to consider: Shadow's fear of gannon is reflecting in Dark's fear of Shadow link because...Well Shadow is a piece of gannon. They're in a way afraid of the same entity.
Shadow puts the mask back on and tries to be good boy.
Visually Dark's tendency to grab his hat and keep it close is similar to an animal keeping it's tail tucked between it's legs.
Welp, the beans have been spilled. Dark IS still working for Vaati...Kind of.
In Dark's own words it's not "For"
but Dark never makes sense to anyone other than himself so...
He also just, assumes Shadow knows what he's there for. Which is amusing. Dark in general assumes everyone else should know everything he does.
The comparison to Zelda is baffling but if you really think about it, Dark does make some semblance of sense here:
Link protects Zelda.
Dark protects Vaati.
Tis the same thing. According to Dark Link.
Dark Link in his own words is a hero.
Shadow's reasonable question of "What's wrong with you" is such a genuine reaction to that shit it makes me laugh. Dark's actions make no sense to Shadow but Dark's affections for Vaati aren't logical hah.
Dark wants to see Vio tho and Shadow just, shuts down thinking about this situation
He didn't give Dark an answer so Dark just goes to pick flowers. XD
Shadow's in a tight situation here. What's the best course of action?
"What to do with Dark Link" and "How to introduce him to the others" is a very...difficult one to answer.
If Dark was a mindless curse with no person attached it'd be easy to just destroy him guilt free. But he's not.
Shadow can't tell if Dark's behavior is genuinely malicious or if he's just socially inept (Third option Shadow: He's just acting in accordance to the curse.)
And another thing: How does dealing/handling Dark affect how Shadow should be treated?
After all they're very alike.
Final panels shows Dark offering up a flower to Shadow.
This page is both hilarious and disturbing.
Dark offering up the flower with a cute lil hopeful expression, paired with a happy looking eye on his chest.
Shadow accepting it and being like "Ah we're cool then right-"
only to see Dark vomiting up a bunch of flowers is just, funny. I find it very funny.
"You like one!? :D HAVE A BUNCH MORE!"
It's a reminder Dark really has no sense of how horrifying he is as he's trying to be nice here. XDDD
Which Dark being able to be kind (In his own way) is again smth worth noting. Dark isn't stuck JUST making people misseriable as he actively tries to do the opposite.
Dark continuously breathing out pollen is just a very funny thing to me.
The sense of "I've fucked up" seeping back.
I was listening to the song "Nuts" from adventure time while working on these pages. I feel like that song kinda relates to Dark and Shadow's relationship.
"You're so annoying you pitiful old man. I'd like to help you but I dunno if I can. I thought you were nuts. But, you're REALLY. REALLY. REALLY NUTS."
Actual page shit:
Shadow understands what Vio meant now. XD
Running away from your issues just FEELS easier in the moment sometimes.
Shadow's confessions of being "not a hero" and being terrified about their future make Dark visibly sad.
The comment "We are afraid of very different things Shadow Link" is I think the first time really Dark's directly addressed Shadow as such without the quotation marks or general disbelief in that name/title.
If it's not, at least the moment is impactful because Dark is giving Shadow respect in a way he typically chooses not too.
Shadow is very much afraid of Vaati, so Dark not relating to that emotion is a stand out.
Him fidgeting with his hands is a detail I just find cute.
"I feel that thing you hate" - directed at Vaati is Dark confessing he feels pity for Vaati. Since in FS Shadow says he despises pity.
Dark explains WHY he pities Vaati, he just finds Vaati utterly pitiful. XD
They have a little moment of bonding over their shared experiences with Vaati.
Dark mimicking Vaati here showing what he wishes Vaati would say to him:
Dark Link wants praise and affection and relationships with others.
But due to his very nature it's very difficult to actually gain these things, and the people he's spoken to outright deny him of these in any meaningful way.
Shadow's question of "Aren't you afraid of what he'll do" just gets "I like Vaati" in response. Pff.
Yes we know buddy, very insightful.
The 2nd to last panel shows smth very insightful:
Firstly that "Nobody loves Vaati" Any care Dark DOES have towards Vaati isn't just him mimicking someone else as it's safe to say everyone hates that guy haha.
More disturbingly:
Dark Link doesn't consider himself a "Somebody" and starts trailing off at the end of his sentance.
"I think it's sad, but it's his own fault...he rejects the only-"
and then stops.
Dark Link referencing himself as the "person" Vaati continuously rejects but stops before he calls himself a "person" verbally.
You could imagine his continued sentence would be "He rejects the only person who cares about him"
Somebody's hair and eyes changed.
Instead of being white at the roots Dark's hair shifts to being Vio's complete hair color.
This is where we dive into psychological horror realm.
What IS Dark if not a person. IS he a person? What qualities does he have that make him a person?
Dark struggles with the distinction of if he's a "real person" or not but quickly dismisses it as smth Vio has been thinking. Which...Is true but also, considering his line about "Nobody loving Vaati" despite very much so caring about Vaati. Dark's identity crisis isn't exactly smth he has a firm grasp on.
PAGE. LIMMIT. Wrote this while sick so I'm sure I missed shit Aghhh.
#fsr rambles#fsr#four swords adventures#four swords returns#four swords manga#four swords#four swords returns au#loz fsr au#loz#shadow link#dark link
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
Your Grace | myg
[Min Yoongi as a Duke]
— Unseathe your sword, warrior. You are home.
in which, once upon a time, there lived a duke of the north and his wife
word count: 1,216
pairing: min yoongi x reader
content/s: fluff, romance, angst, mentions of trauma from war, hurt/comfort, implied smut 👀 ambigous place names bc i can’t think much rn lol, possible nobility hierarchy inaccuracies (dont come at me, come after the manhwas i read lol), min yoongi as a husband in aNY AU IS A WIN, Historical Fantasy AU, Marriage of Convenience AU
[masterlist] | more [reactions & headcannons] & [moodboards]
A/N: excuse me, i need something fluffy to get me through life rn 😭💖 also when people started calling these pics of yoongi as a duke, my brain went “haha, duke of the north male lead type of shii” and i just rolled with it lmAO AHWHAHHA i also thought to make some drabbles out of this AU! Let me know if y’all would like that?? Enjoy!
Also, send me ur headcannons for a duke min yoongi bc i’D LOVE to hear em 🤩💘✨
min yoongi, who is a young duke that took the title after his late father abdicates to travel the known world lol
min yoongi, who governs the coldest region of the kingdom (absolutely hates the climate, but loves his people)
min yoongi, who is a prodigy of the sword and one of the best swordmasters in the kingdom
min yoongi, who is renowned as a war hero that greatly contributed to winning the war against an enemy kingdom
min yoongi, who suffers from night terrors of the people he killed, of the people who betrayed him in battle, of all that blood and gore
min yoongi, whose hands shake whenever he has to hold his blade, but knows he has to get ahold of himself to do his duties
min yoongi, who hates politics and is known to have a tongue as sharp as his sword in slandering nonsensical members of the court
“Frankly, I think this whole proposal of yours, Lord Lee, is a sham that I’m wasting my precious time on.”
min yoongi, who is very close with the crown prince, and thus, much to his chagrin, is one of his most trusted advisors that’s involved with even more politics and shenanigans
“No, I’m not helping you sneak out, Taehyung. We’re here as a foreign delegation—”
min yoongi, who definitely complains about all of the paperwork he has to do, but does so anyways (he does a fantastical job with it, thank you very much)
min yoongi, who spends a lot of his free time either sleeping, or reading in his enormous library to digest knowledge (he's a curious cat sometimes ok)
min yoongi, who is very much fond of tangerines and imports it whenever its in season (his mother used to peel them for him as a child)
min yoongi, who plays the old piano in the east wing whenever he can’t sleep and learns different music from all around the world, but always tends to play his mother’s lullaby
min yoongi, who is pressured to take a wife and is constantly flocked by lords intending to sell their daughters to him
min yoongi, who, to the shock of the entire court, offers marriage to the eldest daughter of a count to a fairly small province that hosted him during the war—you
min yoongi, who swears it’s only because your family wouldn’t have enough power to interfere with his and definitely not also because you were pretty and nice and helped him through a panic attack all those years ago
“I don’t know much about being a husband, but I do know how to be a man of my word, and I swear no harm will come your way.”
min yoongi who marries you on a beautiful summer day, because he thought it'd be nice for you to have a warm and bright wedding in the capital since you'll be living with him in the north where it's constantly foggy and the winters are harsh
min yoongi, who promises to make the wedding night as comfortable and as quick as he can for your sake (but why can't he help but crave for more?)
min yoongi, who is a pretty chill and attentive husband, actually
min yoongi, who made sure to arrange you lessons that'll help you adjust to your title as duchess in the north and in the social circle as well
min yoongi, who always does his best to eat his meals with you (it’s awkward, maybe you should strike a conversation or two?)
“I, uh, heard repairments are to be done on the east wing?”
“Oh, yes, actually. There’s also a new wainscotting design I saw on the capital that I thought would suit the wall so I thought it’d be perfect to have it done as well—”
(great job! you hit the perfect topic!)
min yoongi, who asks you if you’d like something whenever he has to make a visit to the capital and if you say nothing, he'll come back with something he probably consulted someone with—a new dress? a necklace? a popular novel? (damn it, someone help him out here!)
“Here… I, uh, heard it’s popular among the ladies at the capital…”
{gives you a dress in the rest popular fashion so you stay “updated to the trends” as he says it — regrets it, because youlookbeautifulohno—}
“Thank you, Yoongi,” you shyly smile, “It’s beautiful.”
(dead. he’s dead.)
min yoongi, who becomes furious to hear about the gossip surrounding you and goes into a rant about the pretentious idiots at court
“You are Duchess Min of the north. Do not let them slander you like that. Do not hesitate to remind them of what you represent. I gave you the same power as I have when I married you.”
min yoongi who attends every ball from that season on with you by his side to rub it in their faces that the duke of the north does care for his wife, thanks : ]
min yoongi, who was pleasantly surprised when you brought him peeled tangerines to snack on while he was buried under paperwork
“Would you… would you like some?”
min yoongi, who now also peels tangerines for you whenever you two idly hang out together
min yoongi, who finds it easier to sleep with you by his side, especially after you insisted to stay by him when he had a night terror
min yoongi, who likes to take a nap with his head on your lap because you tend to play with his hair when you think he's asleep (he falls asleep right after because of it aww)
min yoongi, who keeps his hair longer than usual because you said it suits him, and absolutely refuses to let others point out or touch his hair lol
“Your hair’s gotten longer, hyung—”
“Don’t. Touch.”
min yoongi, who beams with pride every time he hears the servants praise how well the lady of the house treats them and manages the household (he's also so, so glad he doesn't have to worry about that anymore)
min yoongi, whose heart melts seeing his people love their duchess and shower you both with praises whenever you make visits to the town
min yoongi, who takes horse rides with you around his territory and will never say a word of complaint even if he’s freezing his ass off (pls make him something warm after you two go back to the castle lol)
min yoongi, who always makes sure you stay warm after he heard you go down with a fever (just how many layers do you gotta wear now? jeez)
“While I appreciate your concern, Yoongi. I don’t think I’d need a third fur coat…”
“But—”
min yoongi, who asks you one night if you, at all, regret marrying him and finds himself anxiously waiting for your response
“I find myself very fortunate to have married a man like you, Yoongi. I don’t think I’ll ever regret it.”
min yoongi, who is very relieved and enamored to hear you shyly say that (his gummy smile is unstoppable, o h n o)
min yoongi, whose heart flutters as he smiles down at your sleeping figure after your late-night talk together
Perhaps, this is a better arrangement than I thought…
𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 : @mwitsmejk @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @bloodline1632
#i wrote most of these at 3 AM lol#im so soft rn#bts au#bts historical au#bts headcannons#bts writing#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts imagines#min yoongi x reader#bts moodboard#min yoongi imagines#min yoongi headcannons#min yoongi as a duke
265 notes
·
View notes
Text
🍌 bananas 4 u - lee felix 🍌
requested? Y/N
genre: domestic fluff (they're baking together and having a ball), once again me getting overly poetic about little situations
content warnings: like one mildly dirty joke that kinda implies reader is an afab anatomy haver (but can be interpreted differently if you so choose, i have explained this poorly lol)
pairing: felix x reader
wc: 1.7k
a/n: my mouth n head still hurt from dental anaesthetic lol today was a busy day :') i baked banana bread and was inspired as always so i again wrote something insanely gooey and oddly poetic. is it the best thing i've ever written? no, but it is warm n fuzzy, and that's what i'm going for rn with my sore mouth and sleep deprived disposition lmao 😌 feedback is always very appreciated and encouraged, it keeps us writing after all! all the love 💞💞
Felix had to know you weren’t annoyed with him.
Cancelled plans were common; he was a busy guy after all. You didn’t really tend to see them as commitments anymore anyway - just ideas for ways you could spend the time together should he end up actually having any to spare. When he walked into the dimly lit living room and saw you curled up watching TV—enthralled face illuminated by harsh artificial light glaring from the screen—and saw the understanding look in your eyes when you eventually did look up at him with a sincere smile, he had to know that you got it, and it didn’t bother you in the slightest.
So why had he apologised like, twenty times already?
You asked yourself the question silently, mulling it over, tossing it around in your brain as he dropped another apology into the collection you kept a relatively noncommittal count of in the back of your mind. You asked yourself again as he set to washing his hands, to decorating the countertops with bags and tubs, to washing the few dishes in the sink and scrubbing down the stovetop to make a tidy working area. And you asked yourself again as he preheated the oven the way his phone told him to, focused as he pulled butter from the fridge and checked the ingredients list once more.
“Aren’t you tired?” You finally managed to ask after what felt like a lifetime of perplexed observation, quirking an eyebrow at him as he finally stopped his rapid prepping and stood in front of you to hold your gaze.
“Kinda,” he shrugged, planting a ghost of a kiss on your nose with curved up lips. “But I promised we’d try this banana bread recipe today, and I feel horrible for constantly letting you down.”
“How many times do I have to tell you that it doesn’t bother me?” You chuckled, returning his nose kiss before going to wash your own hands. You’d protest, and reassure him, and insist you could wait for another day; but you knew he’d be unrelenting as ever as he pulled the food scales from a cupboard next to the oven and checked how clean they were against the overhead light. “I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to date an idol, y’know.”
“Still,” he pouted, face impossibly cute as he again stopped simply to look at you while he spoke. “I don’t want you to feel ignored, or like I don’t care, or like I don’t want to spend time with you.”
“Lee Felix, do not make me kiss your nose again,” you spoke with faux warning in your voice, eyebrows raised pointedly. He grinned, feigning fear.
“Yeah, that would be terrible,” he snorted, rolling his eyes, to which you could only think to respond by peppering his face in tiny kisses. The giggles he let out with every peck were so sonorous they felt like a soft caress to your eardrums, sounds you were sure could only come from angels themselves. Perhaps if you looked hard enough you’d find wings scattering trails of feathers as soft as his smile, and as dazzling as the glint in his eyes. You kept his face cupped in your hands as you finished your barrage, eyes boring into his with a palpable seriousness.
���I love what we have, regardless of how many plans we end up cancelling. We always make new ones, and they end up being my fondest memories, so please. Don’t beat yourself up over it when I don’t even mind.”
“Okayyyy,” he drawled, pouting once more in a silent request for yet another kiss, which you happily accepted. “I’m really in the mood to bake now, though. You don’t have to join if you’re too tired.” You looked at the time on the oven display beaming lazily at you, by now past midnight, and shrugged.
“We’re here now, might as well.” He looked so overjoyed at your participation that he looked about ready to burst, swelling your heart to feel quite the same. You took his phone to scan the recipe he’d sent you a few days ago (with accompanying insistence you make it together) and surveyed the countertops to make sure nothing was missing before starting to make small talk about his day as you both assumed roles without needing to discuss them.
You began melting butter in a Pyrex jug and beating an egg in a cup while Felix set about mashing the bananas you’d spent so long ripening with overdramatic tenses of his arm muscles whenever he caught you looking, chuckling at your unabashed awe every time. He was the same while mixing, jostling you slightly as you weighed out dry ingredients and screeching when you threw a small handful of flour into his hair and face in retaliation. Baking with him always went this way, airy laughs and lighthearted tomfoolery alighting your kitchen with a weighted atmosphere of warmth and light, aptly settling alongside indulgent aromas of whatever you’d decided to attempt that week. Your entire apartment was forever alive with a buzzing, jubilant kind of love, still budding and beginning to bloom akin to the freshest, most fragrant blooms of spring, and that was undisputedly concentrated in your kitchen a lot of the time.
He shook the flour you’d so meticulously dusted him with at you, a fine snow tickling your skin and erupting peals of unbridled laughter from deep within your lungs. It caused him to join in just as vivaciously, stomachs aching as you strained to keep the baking session somewhat on track, trembling hands and shaking shoulders sending specks of sugar across the counter to join the mess he’d already made. You knew when all was said and done a lot of the tidying up would probably be left to you tomorrow, though you couldn’t find it in you to care when you were having so much fun.
“Do you think this is too much?” You asked, showing him the bag of macadamia nuts in your hand. He hummed, more focused on stirring everything together as it thickened enough to give him a decent forearm workout, and shook his head distractedly.
“Nah, there aren’t that many,” he responded after a second, to which you poured the entire contents of the bag in at his reassurance. He blinked, stunned, at the small yet significant pile they formed on the top of his expertly blended mixture, the reality of what he’d implicitly told you to do setting in as his body again began to shiver with tired waves of laughter. “Maybe there were more than I thought.”
“At least we both like them,” you responded with a snort, watching them slowly disappear as Felix began moving his arm again. You followed them with walnut halves, causing him to yelp in surprise, head shaking as he continued stirring resignedly.
“You were supposed to cut those up,” his overdone sigh was sardonic, but his impish grin betrayed his admittedly weak act of irritation. “And that’s so many nuts.”
“I mean, we’re making two loaves, so maybe they’ll spread out?” You shrugged, lining long tins with paper liners and gesturing for him to start pouring as you held the sides rigid. “It smells good. Besides, if it’s too much for you, that means more for me.”
“I never said it was too much,” he derided, focusing the best he could on dividing the mixture evenly. “I can out-nut you any day of the week baby.”
“biologically speaking? I beg to differ,” you responded instantly, great effort going into keeping your voice steady as you earned the shocked, wide-eyed look you’d both expected and desired. The atmosphere continued to wind down, but lively laughter remained a constant as you continued throwing things into the bowl.
The tins went into the oven, its small encapsulating warmth a mini imitation of the bubble you and Felix had expertly crafted for yourselves, where time seemed to stand still and glances and giggles seemed to say more than words ever could. He set a timer on his phone, taking the opportunity he saw in finally having free hands to pull you into his arms and wrap them tightly around you. You smiled as you pressed a kiss to his forehead, both of you beaming between each other, eyes twinkling with unadulterated adoration. Minutes were flying by in throes as you switched continuously between clinging to one another as if every kiss would be the last, talking about every random thing that came to mind and peering impatiently into the small glowing window you never strayed very far from.
As always, the vaguely consistent sickly sweet smell surrounded you in your joy, sugar teasing at the tips of your tongues as they darted out to wet the lips you so diligently kept against one anothers’ at every moment that allowed it. Your stomach yearned for the bread to finish baking already, yet by comparison your heart already felt so full. It thrummed happily in its bony cage like a bird in song, calling out to Felix’s and waiting for its equally resonant reply. Call and response, soft and trusting, connected so inherently within the space you crafted for yourselves in time to simply be with one another; to exist in love, and to feel sure the melodies would not silence any time soon.
You helped each other tidy up as cracks began to form in the hardening surface of the baked goods, rinsing dishes to be washed properly in the afternoon when you would muster the energy and countertops once again being wiped clean. After storing away the remaining butter he took your hand in his, face soft as he pulled you flush to him and began swaying with you to nothing but the faint buzzing of the dazzling light coming from the fridge and the tap dripping idly in the corner. You smirked as you rested your head on his chest, searching for that songbird, searching for its exuberance.
“We’re doing this trope now?” You hummed contentedly, frankly too comfortable in the easygoing happiness to mock all too much. He chuckled into a kiss to your head, twirling with a languid flair.
“We’ve covered so many of them already, why not tick some more boxes?” He grinned, holding you just a little tighter. His phone’s timer would go off soon, and you’d break from the bubble just a little to finish the job, but for now you allowed yourself to revel in heady delight as you danced to the tunes your entwined hearts passionately sang.
#stray kids#lee felix#skz#stray kids fluff#felix fluff#skz fluff#stray kids felix#stray kids x reader#felix x reader#skz x reader#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#felix scenarios#felix imagines#skz scenarios#skz imagines
325 notes
·
View notes
Note
thoughts on the colors red, blue, green, and yellow? any comments on the shapes triangle, square, or circle?? rhombus
first of all i gotta tell you that im enjoying this ask twice as much cause i got multiple spam asks since yesterday and did not expect an actual question... anyway. im gonna answer this 200% in earnest, as it should be, obviously (yes i actually did write this out, strap in ig)
red: listen i know everyones favorite color seems to be blue for some reason but red is RIGHT THERE. i heard somewhere that not all languages differentiate the same colors as english (and other european languages), but the first color after light/dark there will be a word for is usually red. idk if thats true but seems plausible, cause yknow whats red? fuckin berries to eat, also blood (either concerning or also to eat, ig). cavepeople knew red was important business. also its pretty and you use it to make pink.
blue: not to imply that blue isnt also good. its got a range. looks very fresh. i do like a teal-ish blue but others are cool also. its really rare in nature ig? but if it does occur its looks rly good! (im saying this rn cause my desktop wallpaper has blue flowers lmao) also if i had a cent for every time i had dreams with intense, seemingly really significant blue night skies, i'd have 2 cents, which isnt much but weird etc etc.
green: ok i like green but, unpopular opinion time, i want neither a green couch nor a green kitchen. i want a pink couch and a blue kitchen. that being said green fucks and is part of some iconic things, such as HES GEEN, and also my favorite song green soop by dooboo, which references the fact that soups can be green (@geminyde)
yellow: finally yellow is super underappreciated. im kinda mad that yellow doesnt suit me super well in clothes cause theres so many cool yellow things id want on a shirt. people only ever think of bright neon yellow but it also had SHADES.
now, the shapes. people at art school will try to convince you that these have some deeper meaning and even a gender (??) cause some guy whose name i forgot claimed they do and thats bs. heres the actual truth about them. triangle pointy. also an instrument! theyre really flexible cause they can have wildly different angles and like?? thats different from squares, which are literally all the same, except for size ig? but thats nice it gives them a sense of stability. theyre ol reliable. ever wonder why they had town squares but never town triangles? well,
anyway the circle is most definitely the princess of shapes. you might think its really basic compared to like uhh a trapezoid or whatever cause you learn about it in kindergarten, but its so fucked up it has ZERO angles?? but then if you wanna render it its got a huge amount of angles/into infinity instead? you can calculate any shapes area with basic maths basically but ohh noo not the circle. its soo special. we love that for him but you gotta be honest.
ngl i had to look up what a rhombus is and its just idk a Raute ig. its a rectangle who wants to be special. which is fine we all need some attention sometime but like, its a rectangle on its side. its doing its own thing. i think it should have a different english name tho tbh. rhombus reminds me of the name rhonda and that has a different vibe. idk if that one was also a question or just an addition tbh but there u go
so thats it thanks for asking like comment subscribe
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Give me your favourite blorbos and favourite headcanon for them
Is this a Christmas present for me anon? Bc if it is, I love it and thank you 😚💖😭😭
I have a lot of characters I like, but as far as absolute faves rn, here's Gambit and Nightcrawler :) thank you so much for this generous ask and enjoy!
Gambit
Gambit's father tried to send Remy to receive formal education as a kid, but Gambit wasn't very cooperative about it (like, at all) and so he never finished
You would hardly know this though, as Gambit is not only, of course, able to read and write perfectly- but he is also bilingual (English and French), can write in cursive, and can read Roman numerals
Gambit grew up Catholic in comic canon, but as an adult he now carries and proclaims himself as atheist (this is also canon, I believe) however, in his heart of hearts, he's really more agnostic
Sometimes in dark hours, he will pray the rosary to soothe himself. That and, very rarely, he can sometimes be found sitting in the local chapel- just to think, he says
Also in comic canon, Gambit dreams of having a family and wants to be a dad one day- as for the headcannon, he'll never say a preference aloud, but secretly he hopes to have mostly girls
He has learned to braid and tie those big, glittery hair bows in preparation for this, but he would die before letting on about either of those skills
This is canon as far as the cartoon is concerned, but just for the record I hc that not only is Gambit indeed a really great cook, but it is also secretly one of his hobbies
Here's something interesting- in comic canon Gambit has his powers surgically reduced by Mr sinister so that he can better control them. For the hc, I believe this is where their red color comes from, but when he was at full power, his eyes were purple
Free fun fact! But this is how you can tell if the gambit I'm writing or drawing is at his full, godly power or not- I intentionally depict him with either color to suit my story/imagination
This might be actually controversial to some, but I am in this category of women myself, so do not fear: Gambit secretly is very (VERY) into curvy women, especially after having grown up in the south (he's a hips and thighs guy, if you're curious)
However, and this is the controversial part, he's one of Those Guys™ that feels ashamed of attraction, so he will very rarely pursue or even entertain them if anyone he knows is watching
If he thinks he can get away with it privately tho- he most definitely will go for it
In a world where he either doesn't end up with rogue or something tho, this weird embarrassment thing goes away entirely as he gets a little older and more emotionally mature
For my followers: this reservation does not exist at all in regards to dad bod Gambit. He proudly enjoys great food AND fine ass women- no holds barred
Gambit's love language is quality time, his myer briggs is ESTP, his sign is Leo, he's about 6'4 (I like to imagine him a little extra tall), and if you see me write/draw him with a dad bod he's at least about 34 years old
Nightcrawler
Nightcrawler cannot swim, at least- not formally
This has nothing to do with physical ability, but rather that he just never learned, mostly bc he has/had no need
He's never had any formal education either, and only learned to read and write at the monastery in his early 20s
This also means he barely spoke English until meeting the professor- now, he's fully fluent tho
I feel that some people are going to act like this is controversial, even tho it shouldn't be lmao- but I hc that Kurt is a virgin
I don't care what the comics say/imply or how old he is: on this blog he takes his faith very seriously and is waiting for marriage
While he grew up staunchly Catholic, as he has gotten older and had more opportunities to study religion on his own, he later converted to Christianity
On the subject of older Nightcrawler- as he ages, certain attributes of his mutation become more pronounced: his fur grows to a thicker, almost woolly texture, his top fangs are longer and protrude from his lip, and he gains slightly keener senses more akin to Wolverine's
On that note- Kurt's hair is naturally curly (although he does nothing to care for it) so once his fur starts growing thicker, this is where it gains it's interesting sherpa like quality instead of just the short, velvet like fuzz he's known for
While his human disguise changes all the time from comic to comic, I like to headcannon that Kurt's disguise is just his natural face and hair, but with human colors- obviously
I toyed with the idea that his human hair would be red/ginger like mother mystique, but ultimately I hc it to be a very light blonde and his eyes are honey brown
On virtue of being an extremely thin man, Kurt ALSO is strongly attracted to full figured women- unlike Gambit tho, at no point in his life does this attraction bother him nor impede his romantic pursuits
Kurt's love language is physical touch, his myer briggs is INFP, his sign is Cancer, and if you see me draw/write him with a dad bod he's probably about 38 years old
#i could write hcs just for dad bod versions of these characters tbh- but i shall restrain myself#im so happy rn like you legit have no idea#XMEN CONTENTTTTTTT WOOOOHOOOOOO#nightcrawler x reader#gambit x reader#marvel xmen
113 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
marothro
Daily life
xxfluffypuff
Fluffypuff
heybunnyboy
Bunny Boy 🐰
shaikyusufblr-blog
Untitled
desammor
Unbreakable