#really really enjoy your style op
Text
OP smutty headcanons
Warnings: ⚠️no minors pls ⚠️
Just some fun headcanons I have for some of the OP men ☠️
OP men: Zoro, Sanji, Law and Luffy.
pt. 2
Roronoa Zoro:
- he’s gonna be rough with you (are you really surprise???)
- but his aftercare is actually thoughtful. If thoughtful means getting you a wet nap to clean up and putting you to bed because he practically ruined your body
-he’s gonna be smirking pridefully when he sees you walking funny the next day
- degrading (receiving) tell him you think mihawk would be a better lover or that sanji’s stamina is stronger - he’s gonna be so pissed but he’s gonna dick you down harder. Call him weak and you’re done for, might as well save up for a new pussy.
- oral (receiving) he’s gonna sit back and relax while you do the work. Arms crossed again his chest the entire time, he’s not gonna let you know he’s enjoying himself -that’s for weak men.
- thigh kink: his favorite way to watch you get off is by riding his enormous thighs and you’re eyes have to be on him the whole time.
Black Leg Sanji:
- Praise kink (receiving) tell him what a good boy he is!
- Hand kink (giving) he only uses his hands for two things - cooking and fingering you until your juices are all over his fingers.
- Food Play (giving) he wants to feed you chocolate covered strawberries while fucking you. If you allow it, can he please lick chocolate off your nipples???
- Nipple sucking (giving) His favorite thing is to lay his head upon your lap, your fingers in his hair as he sucks on your nipples. He can cum in his pants if allowed enough time. He got mommy issues yall.
- Missionary King: he wants to see your face at all times and he wants to treat you like a Queen. And queens don’t have to lift a finger! He’s gonna take good care of you and make sure you cum first before him.
- Aftercare includes cleaning you up himself, drawing a bath for you and making sure you have enough food and water.
Trafalgar D. Water Law:
- you have to take the lead, he’s kinda shy….
- but once the ball gets rolling…he tends to be a little more assertive but polite. “Is this fine?” He’ll asks when he starts to move faster in you.
- he can’t handle how cute you look when he’s inside you that he asks if you guys can do doggy style instead. He can’t focus, so that’s his favorite position.
- he’s needy and stalks you around the ship. He won’t outright say it but he’s always down to fuck. Or maybe some foreplay? He has no problem sending you two to his room with his power, he can have you naked on his bed in seconds!
- praise kink (giving/receiving) he likes when you tell him how good he’s making you feel and in return, he will (under his breath, he’s shy!) how good you make him feel.
- aftercare includes telling you to use the restroom right after. He’s a doctor ya’ll he doesn’t want you to get a UTI. But then he’ll beckon you back to the bed because he likes to cuddle. Cuddling is mandatory for at least thirty minutes. He’s the big spoon.
Monkey D. Luffy:
- he’s a little complicated, but he’s an eager lover.
- he’s a “I need it now and I don’t care where we’re at or whose around” kinda guy. There’s been enough times where the rest of the crew has come to recognize the look in his eye and quickly leave the two of you alone.
- he likes eating…so eating you out is his favorite thing to do. His head digs into your thighs and he acts like he hasn’t eaten all day. “You taste really good!”
- praise kink (receiving/giving) tell him he’s gonna be the king of the pirates and he’ll do whatever you want. Every time you make him cum, he always is thankful and rewards you with a kiss and a pat on the head. But you tell him he needs to do more than that! He does lol
- his stamina lasts forever. He can raw dog you for hours if you allowed it but most of the time you have to beg him to finish - your body can’t handle it!
- aftercare really is just him bringing food for you and him to eat in bed. Then a really long nap, his arms wrapped around you - even if you wanted to leave, you couldn’t!
……………….
Send me more characters to headcanon!
#op headcanons#one piece headcanons#Luffy x reader#Zoro x reader#sanji x reader#law x reader#op smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Op characters with a clingy/handsy drunk? let's go
suggestive in Sanjis, Luffy, Brooks, DEFINITELY in Namis and Frankys and maybe Usopps? Mostly vague stuff, on that note would you guys actually be interested in like nsfw stuff? I know I'm really toeing the line here and i have drafts but I'm nervous to post😭.
Feel like this could be ooc in some places but who cares😻(me :()
Luffy
Giggles a lot, he finds it so cute and it really makes him feel warm in his chest. He can't get enough of you to be honest. Like this man loves physical touch but be warned he will think it's a sudden new level in your 'friendship'(read:in love with each other) and start acting that affectionate all the time. Willing to carry you around and also wrap himself around you so you can walk with him just there, yes this includes to the bathroom-
Zoro
Adores it. I think he actually loves affection and physical touch but just doesn't say it because he thinks it's obvious (it's not). So when you come up to him, wobbly and on your 6th drink, and just practically throw yourself into his arms hes just like :/). Makes sure you stay nice and close to him because he doesn't want you clinging to anyone else, and he always makes sure you drink water before bed even if bed involves falling asleep on top of him.
Sanji
Makes him nervous to be honest. Usually he's the forward one in the relationship but here you are untucking his shirt just to shove your hands up it. He absolutely will shriek if its in front of other people, and he's trying to wrangle your grabby hands but he really enjoys it so his resolve is so weak. Tries to satiate you by being affectionate back but it just makes you worse and he ends up taking you to a more private area so he at least doesn't have to blush in front of others.
Nami
She thinks it's so cute. Let's you do whatever you want as long as the people around you are comfortable and you've said it's fine(when sober ofc), but she doesn't really care about people seeing until you start trying to either get undressed or undress her and then she takes you to a private space because she's ever so slightly possessive. Listen for a girl who didn't have much, you add a lot of value to her life and she wants to treasure you properly, she doesn't trust anyone else to appreciate you the way you deserve.
Usopp
Surprisingly confident. You come up to him with this big dreamy smile and you're practically falling over yourself so he just- scoops you up. Front piggyback style yk, he's got one arm under your ass supporting your weight and the other one is holding his drink, listen this mf is strong okay you think a man who can build a boat isn't strong? Fool. He just lets you do what you want to be honest, one of your hands is tucked in his back pocket, the other is trying and failing to undo his overalls and he's just like "You okay honey?".
Robin
She's flustered. She's not that used to physical affection so it makes her really giggly and blushy, though she's still quite confident in her words and actions, she's fr twirling her hair around her finger. She has quite a high tolerance for alcohol but she actually gets a bit similar when she's drunk, she's more reserved of course but she just melts into you like butter on a hot pan. The crew always take so many pictures because they think it's so cute, literally every celebration you two just end up cuddling and then it sorta turns into a big cuddle pile with the crew because seeing her relax gets them emotional.
Franky
Oh baby you are looking in a mirror. He is just as bad if not worse- when he gets drunk he is a massive flirt and a massive tease. He's so giving in relationships and usually you don't have to ask twice but being drunk will mean he wants you to practically beg for a kiss. Half because he thinks it's funny and half because he's a horny bastard- Though if you get upset then he immediately drops the teasing, even when drunk he's so considerate of your feelings and your boundaries.
Brook
Doesn't mind at all but prefers to be in private when you're like this.
Quick headcannon that his bones are more sensitive than skin because there's less external protection-
Lets just say one time you touched a sensitive area in public and he will never get over the reaction he had or the fact that other people saw it. So you go to room jail as soon as you start trying to practically crawl inside his clothes to be as close as possible. He's not mad though, he giggles the entire way, he's just very shy about his interests.
Jinbei
Flustered as hell but makes him feel really secure in your relationship. Also, he lowkey loves being able to bring it up to tease you later, like he pulls an uno reverse when you're sober and you're just like omg omg omg- He's a sneaky guy fr, does so many unexpected things in a relationship. Don't get me wrong though he'd never let you do anything inappropriate, even when drunk he's very aware of boundaries and social etiquette so if he notices you getting a bit grabby then he takes you somewhere private for both your benefit and the people around you.
Sabo
Oh baby. This man is feral don't even start. The first time he experiences it, it's actually really unexpected, it's quite early in your relationship so you havent been too affectionate yet, but you come up to him and just sit down. On him. And you can practically see his brain melting out of his ears, his face goes so red you think he's going to pass out but the second you stand up, drunk and lowkey sad, he snatches you back down. You wanted to sit there, you are going to sit there now you have no choice. (You do but would you want to get up?)
Ace
Menace. Cannot even state how much of a menace. He's so physically affectionate that it usually flusters even the most confident people, and this is while sober, so if you start getting clingy when drunk he just becomes obsessed. But he absolutely hates it if you're like that with other people so once you start getting to that stage then he's whisking you away to your shared room, usually you stick to him like glue anyways but the crew love to wind him up by coaxing you away from him with food and funny stories.
#mdni#one piece x reader#luffy x reader#nami x reader#nico robin x reader#sanji x reader#zoro x reader#franky x reader#brook x reader#jinbei x reader#jinbe x reader#usopp x reader#sabo x reader#portagas d. ace x reader#one piece fics#one piece x gn reader
683 notes
·
View notes
Text
There's a lot of reasonably frustrated but ultimately misdirected psa-style posting about how viewers NEED to start reblogging things rather than just liking them because that is the primary mode of post circulation on this site. The modern manifestation of this sentiment seems to miss the fact that, if you've been here for ~15 years, were here prior to, during, and after the exodus to the bird app, you already know that likes have always been more common than reblogs, that many people simply don't want to put your art on their blog, and that guilting end-users into using a microblogging site A Specific Way absolutely does not work. If it did, the trend would have shifted a decade ago. Because this conversation really is that old. Regardless, the modern discourse of how difficult it is to be Seen specifically on Tumblr isn't productive because I think it ultimately misses the reason being an artist online feels so Bad, now.
The social media era has funneled Looking At Stuff on the Internet into an economy of engagement that encourages end-users to treat everything we/they see as quick, cheap, and disposable. This is just another fun and flirty way that capitalism devalues art. It's nothing new. Trying to force masses of users to behave in a way that is healthier for the circulation of art isn't going to do anything to solve the discontent we all feel when we hurl something into the void and it is ultimately ignored. I swear up and down: A higher notes number won't feel better, either. Popularity is just as demoralizing as radio silence, but it manifests differently. Instead of 4 likes and maybe 1 reblog from Old Faithful Mutual, you get a horde of people who treat you like a content machine. You keep hoping for an impossibly Bigger Number. The notifs on the first Big Number Post haven't even settled, and people are already asking when the follow-up is coming. You get anons, but most of them are trying to passively convince you to give them More Content.
It's really, really hard to make people care about art. If there was a silver bullet for making the average person appreciate the enormity of human effort behind every beautiful thing they encounter, we would have found it centuries ago.
The best thing creatives can do for their lives online is to be friendly, or at least kind, with other creators. "Big" artists don't form in-groups because they're snobs. They find each other because they casually showed each other support, and their mutual appreciation for that Thing that wound them up in the same tag becomes a foundation for connection, and in many cases, the ever-illusive Bigger Audience as they introduce themselves to each others' circles. We get more eyes on our work by building community with each other.
Where does that leave people who are just here to look at things, not post them? I think the answer is almost identical: COMMENT!! Please, comment! The first step to engaging with art on a more meaningful level is to point out something you particularly enjoy about a given work. It can go in the replies, it can go in the tags, doesn't matter!! If you notice some symbolism or make some connection, there is all likelihood that OP put it there because they desperately wanted somebody to notice it. Let them know why you like it!
Reaching for the nebulous, impossible goal of better post circulation isn't going to make being a creator online in 2023 suck less. Meaningfully connecting with each other can, will, and does. You can make someone's day just by passingly letting them know that their effort is worth more than a number.
#budgetalks#I got to thinking about this because of fanfic actually#the proportion of comments to kudos ESPECIALLY on popular fics bums me out#especially when you open the comments and half of them are people asking for more
957 notes
·
View notes
Text
jude + he/him + nineteen
FTM femfag colorfreak and general rainbow lover. I’m a sophomore in art school, a lover of obscure indie pop, and a guy who makes transgender penis jokes on the internet. Stay weird with it always, yknow?
I’m veryyyyyy t4t towards other trans guys butch, fem, femme, and masc alike and this is 90% of my content fair warning.
Art: @fagboyfriend
Twee/Indie Pop blog : @upforabit
dm for nsfw blog
selfies are under: #Jude pansyfem irl
putting a short faq under cut bc. i get the same questions a lot. check it before you ask about my icon or header or anything
faq:
How long have you been on T/How do you have a beard at 19? I came out at 12 years old, started blockers at 14 and HRT later that same year, and had top surgery at 17, making me 5 years on t and 2.5 years post op.
What show/game/comic is your icon from? its a cropped version of the album cover of the 1999 album “shake the pounce” by vancouver based twee pop band Gaze. It’s a favorite album of mine as well as just a cool little guy i like a lot
Where is your header from? a painting i did in gouache a year or two ago and thought would make a nifty header.
Oh come on, you’re not unboyfriendable! “unboyfriendable” has been my title for a long time now on account of it being a lyric from a song that means a lot to me, “all my little words” by the magnetic fields. i promise i am very fuckable im just really into sad music sometimes
How do I refer to you? Actually, i don't get this question a lot, and I shouldn't, since this info is both in my pinned above and in my bio. But a lot of people still seem awful confused. I am male. FTM. I use He/Him pronouns and masculine terms with the exception of compliments like 'pretty' and all that. I am not nonbinary, and do not like to be referred to gender neutrally. I simply am a trans man who enjoys gender non conformity and cross-dressing.
Are you Bi or Gay? this world is full of beauty. im queer. take that how you will. I generally consider myself open to any gender as long as they’re trans, (i am strictly t4t.) but still identify pretty strongly with being a queer guy in the way that i do like other men.
What style are you wearing/where do you get your clothes? I started by wearing my personal version of the japanese fashion subculture Decora Kei. My decora became a bit messy and grungy, and while i do still identify as a decora boy and wear full coords from time to time, i consider myself now someone who enjoys colorful fashion and takes influence from 90s harajuku fashion, punk subcultures, drag and other campy fashion. I shop a variety of places, but a lot of my stuff is from Kei Collective or Candy Trap.
What is Twee/Do you Make Music? Twee is a music genre I developed a special interest in a few years back. It's a style of indie pop that originated after the UK rise of the famous c86 compilation tape in the late eighties, and was developed with a focus on low-fidelity, diy sound combined with upbeat, bubblegum-y pop sentiments and a naive, childlike outlook. It's both cute and somewhat rough around the edges. I do not make music, and don’t hold any musical skill. I’m just a major fan.
Do you take commissions? you may direct all art related questions to my art blog inbox, but for the time being, please just dm me for commission info. I take them on a case by case basis currently, im a full time student and have a lot on my plate. I’ll let you know my availability and pricing upon request, but i generally prefer the ‘you tell me your vision, i give you a quote and you tell me if that works for you’ model of pricing because each peice is considered its own thing in my mind. Pricing for ‘full body’ or ‘lineart’ doesnt work for me beacause the media and subject doesn’t really dictate how much time or effort a peice will take for me.
Can you boost/reblog this post for me? This is a tough answer, i know, but if we are not mutuals, or I do not know you, I cannot do that for you. My reasoning being that I have been baited by very similar asks in the past that turned out to be scams, and I do not want to take the risk of spreading misinformation or scams now that I have a much larger following. I do my best to spread stuff that ends up on my dash and/or I can factcheck, but if I do not have that, I will be wary, considering my past interactions.
Can we be friends/Can I DM you? Anyone is welcome to send me a message of any type at any time, unless I have those settings changed, in which case i likely have it off short term, because i experience fairly regular transphobic harassment and i find it the best way to protect myself. However, just understand that I am a stranger on the internet. I don't always want to continue every conversation, and I'm not online all the time. I have all push notifications for tumblr turned off, including asks and dms, because it's much better for my mental health to be able to opt out of tumblr the moment I close the app. So, if i don't respond, i'm probably just doing something else or didn't see your message. And, if you come in full force flirtatiously, i appriciate it greatly and i'm sure i'll let you know, but i'm pretty shy one on one. Additionally, i may not respond if you're a blank blog, way older or younger than me, or honestly.. anything that makes me uncomfortable. so like. all of these are pretty basic rules but, people don't follow them so i must clarify.
Do you have a DNI? I haven't in a long time, due to it being pretty frequently ignored and my following count growing to the point i can't really control that anymore. I can and will block people, but i feel my opinions are made fairly clear through what I post here.
507 notes
·
View notes
Text
Okay, this started as a rant on another post but then i figured it wasn't fair to inflict that on OP. I don't even know OP. So uhhh...
I am, at this point, completely convinced that the people who advise against headhopping, beige prose, purple prose, and infodumping, and the people who love headhopping, beige prose, purple prose, and infodumping are using two different definitions of the words.
Because do you really enjoy reading published novels where you can't tell whose thoughts belong to whom? Do you really enjoy prose that is choppy, vague, awkward, and lacks enough detail to actually follow the story? Do you really enjoy prose that keeps using big, fancy words but it is clear the author doesn't actually know what they mean, or uses run-on sentences that are dizzying to try and make sense of? Do you really enjoy having your high-paced action scene interrupted by 6 pages straight of technical jargon with absolutely no attempt to incorporate it naturally into the story (and like two paragraph breaks across the whole 6 pages)?
On the other hand...
Do you really hate every single case of Omniscient POV you have ever read - did you hate Narnia, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Pride and Prejudice because of the POV? Do you really find sparse, accessible, "quick and snappy" prose that off-putting? Do you hate poetry - can you seriously not think of any examples of vivid, flowing prose chalk-full of literary devices (metaphor, zeugma etc.) that spoke to you? Have you really never enjoyed a paragraph here and there where a scifi writer explains exactly how their weird alien is biologically possible? Have you? Do you?
(Okay, okay. I know this is Tumblr. If anyone actually bothers to read this rant (hahaha) some little edgy contrarian is going to appear in the notes eventually but IN GENERAL)...
Long story short I think we have two different definitions of all these terms running around.
Headhopping
When the narrator describes the thoughts of more than one character per paragraph (or scene).
When the narrator describes the thoughts of more than one character per paragraph (or scene) in a way that makes it difficult to tell who is thinking and experiences what. It is confusing to the reader.
Beige prose
Simple, sparse, accessible, to the point, only conveying the tip of the iceberg.
Choppy, awkward, vague, missing critical information, sacrificing clarity for the sake of simplicity.
Purple prose
Poetic, flowery and/or vivid language, long complex sentences, a tendency toward the dramatic.
Language that is "too flowery" - fancy, rare words used incorrectly, or which don't make sense given the tone, mood, atmosphere, genre, style etc, or which make it hard to follow what is happening. Run-ons and sentences that are dizzying to make sense of. Melodrama, aka dramatic without adequate build up.
Infodumping
Explaining details that aren't necessary for the story. Taking a few paragraphs, maybe a page or two, at an appropriate moment in the story (even a whole chapter if it is built-up to correctly). This can be in the text itself or it can be in an appendix or prologue (à la Concerning Hobbits)
Explaining details that aren't necessary for the story. Taking a few paragraphs, maybe even several pages, at an inappropriate moment in the story. It interrupts the flow and pacing. There is no effort to weave or incorporate the information into the story. It is just dumped there.
And yeah, I just think we could solve so much discourse if we acknowledged that we aren't all using the same definitions.
149 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Eng Subs DL] Musical Yuukoku no Moriarty (Moriarty the Patriot) Op. 4 - "The Two Criminals"
Hello, and Merry Christmas to those who celebrate~! Otherwise, Happy Holidays! I am here to share the English subtitles for more MoriMyu~!
Oh gosh, I apologize for such a long wait...!
Life just punched me around a bit with studying for board exams (which I passed, thankfully!), a bit of technical problems with the BD version, and a lot of real life things I needed to take care of before the year ends (￣▽￣*)ゞ
Op. 4 covers chapters 33-47 of the original comic, with a few scenes/moments omitted. It is essentially the build-up to the climax of the story that was covered in Op. 5!
We were also blessed with the addition of Miss Mary Morstan and Adam Whiteley for this musical, and I hope everyone falls in love with them, too~!
Anyway, here are the subs~! A huge, huge thank you to @mouldering for helping me with proof-reading and quality checking! I wouldn't have been able to finish this before Christmas without your help~!
♡ ～('▽^人)
I will be updating the folders with the bonus content subtitles when I am able to as well, but for now, please enjoy the main show's subs~!
Links, notes, and disclaimers under the cut, enjoy~!
BD PURCHASE LINK (International cards and shipping accepted!): CDJapan - BD ver. | DVD ver.
Official Sites: Twitter | Website (MoriMyu General) | Website (Op. 4)
MoriMyu Op. 1 Subtitles | MoriMyu Op. 2 Subtitles | MoriMyu Op. 3 Subtitles
NOTES:
※ THE FILE IS SUBTITLES ONLY, VIDEO IS NOT INCLUDED!
※ The folder contains subs for a DVD version as well as a Blu-ray version!
(I tested the DVD version on the BD a lot of times, and there was always a slight delay with the syncing, so I re-timed and re-styled it for the BD. You could technically load the DVD subs onto the BD, but you'd have to manually adjust the timing on your media player.)
All songs and lyrics were translated by me.
A bit of creative liberty was exercised to fit context and some cultural references.
As usual, the lyrics actually help move the plot, so I didn’t include the romaji for any of them. But, if you’d like to have the complete lyrics, I do have them saved up in PDF form, so feel free to DM me for them if you want ^^
Again, I’m not a native British English speaker, so some terms might be off. I consulted with a friend to help me check them, just in case, but please forgive any mistakes.
As usual, some scenes in the musical differ from the anime/manga for time and fluidity’s sake, so please don’t hit me for things that I can’t control ^^;
There aren’t particularly any triggering scenes here, but please do watch with caution since some subjects and terms used might be sensitive and/or triggering for other viewers.
@kumoriyami-xiuzhen requested me to do the bonus content subs, so I will be reblogging and updating the main post when they are up as well! ^^
RULES:
[MOST IMPORTANT] Please DO NOT re-post the subs and the link outside of Tumblr! If you want to share outside, please, please DM me about it and link my blog to your post. That’s all I ask.
Please DO NOT remove my credits.
Please DO NOT re-translate without permission.
SUBS DL LINK: GOOGLE DRIVE
※ Please only DM me if there is a problem with the subtitles. I cannot help you if it’s related to the videos.
※ If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a coffee here, if you can. It’ll really help me out a lot.(o^▽^o) Thank you!!
#yuukoku no moriarty#moriarty the patriot#musical yuukoku no moriarty#moriarty the patriot musical#morimyu#suzuki shogo#hirano ryo#kubota hidetoshi#yamamoto ikkei#kamakari kenta#nagae ryoki#izawa yuuki#takagi shun#fujita ray#nanaki kanon#yuukoku no moriarty translations#my subs#my translations#i still get goosebumps whenever i watch the songs in op. 4...!#they are so powerful and so packed with emotion...!#“i hope” and “i will” still make me so weak!!
177 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hello! I dunno if your requests are open but can I get Bubba, Jason, Freddy and Micheal with a soft, short, female S/O who carrys around a small teddy bear everywhere? Thank you!
Sure thing, hun! Hope you like it! 💖
Bubba
Bubba finds you to be the cutest thing he’s ever seen! So small, so kind and so adorable! Just like a real life doll!
He squeals in delight whenever he sees you carry around your teddy bear. He even tries to make it a friend out of cloth and other materials laying around the house or farm.
He keeps an eye out for your teddy bear for you and gets worried that it might get dirtied up, he ends up cleaning it if that ever happens.
Bubba makes sure his brothers don't mess with you or your fuzzy friend. <3
Jason
Jason thinks it's real sweet that you still hold on to your old stuffed toys. He might have some laying about the cabin as well.
Pamela couldn't let go of any of his old belongings. So there might be some of Jason's kids toys still intact.
He might let you touch or play with them...Only if you're really careful, they hold a lot of sentimental value to him.
Overall thinks you're a real sweetheart, he loves that you're still in touch with your inner child and find joy in the little things in life.
Also finds your height difference cute, he loves picking you up bridal style around the cabin.
Freddy
Freddy here likes to tease and make fun of how "childish" you are for carrying around a teddy bear.
Would probably take it from your hands and try to get you to get it back by chasing him around. Now who's being childish....and kind've a jerk
You don't know why he's so bent on annoying you with your teddy bear. You're starting to suspect that he's jealous of it.
He's not! How idiotic would that be! ...ok maybe just a lil'
Freddy also likes to tease you about your height.
He gives you nicknames like: Shorty, Shortstack, Doll, Mouse, Tiny, Cupcake, and many many more small related things. Each day he comes up with a new one.
Michael
Michael likes your small stature, he loves throwing you over his shoulder with such ease. He enjoys having such power over you.
He finds your soft and caring personality to be...comforting? In his own mysterious way.
Michael has seen you carry around your teddy bear wherever you go. He doesn't think he's ever seen you without it. He's a bit curious as to why.
Doesn't understand the infatuation you might have with it. It's just a dumb stuffed toy, he thinks to himself. He might get the urge to stab into it and rip it into pieces, but ops to hide it from your view.
He's definitely jealous of it. Why not give him all the attention you're giving to your teddy bear?
After searching the entire house, and panicking trying to find your teddy bear, he ends up just leaving it at your bed without you noticing.
That night he goes out and doesn't come back 'till later in the afternoon of the next day.
When you finally notice him in your house, he's holding a bloodied up stuffed rabbit, and hands it to you. Maybe it's his way of saying sorry, for making you worry so much over your teddy.
#slashers#slashers x reader#jason voorhees x reader#freddy kruger x reader#michael myers x reader#bubba sawyer x reader#x reader#jason voorhees#freddy krueger#micheal myers#bubba sawyer
220 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey Jester!! 🫶 hope you’re doing well ^_^ love the way you write Sanji and the op boys, it’s really comforting! :’)
If your requests are open- would it be possible to ask a headcannon list or short fic with the loverboy? A small fun, comfort scenario where reader really likes the idea of wearing suits or styles (like Sanji) in the sort, but doesn’t act on it and simply admires it? Then one day she buys something for herself, and he walks in on her? Eventual Reader hinting out to him “yknow you’re welcome to try my stuff on too..”
“!…”
…? Not sure if it makes any sense-! Feel free to skip it if it’s something a little too weird ^^”
Wishing you a good day- thank you! Stay awesome!!
pairing: sanji x gn!reader
contents: slight language, fluff, nosebleeds because sanji moment, reader buys a suit for the first time but its gender neutral
word count: 1.3k words
note: awwww hi! as always i got carried away because i only ever know how to be long winded oops— this was so cute and fun to write, though :33 thank you for your request <33 i hope you enjoy hehe
playlist: greenpath - christopher larkin
As you passed by the window of a nearby shop, you paused to stare at the mannequin that decorated the usually empty space. With one hand on its hip, it was adorned with a simple black suit. Plain, yes, but you could appreciate fine tailoring when you saw it. You wondered how it would look on you; if it would fit against your body just so, accentuating your finer features. That would be nice, wouldn’t it? You usually wore casual clothing, preferring comfort above all else, but you could appreciate a fancy suit when the mood struck.
Your shoes squeaked as you stood yourself on your tiptoes to align yourself with the mannequin. The reflection of your face hovered over the mannequin's blank features, almost uncanny in its visage. You hummed, studying the window as if it was a mirror. It didn’t look half bad. Before you made any rash decisions that would leave you losing a hefty sum of cash, you should try it on. Approximation was fine sometimes, though you could admit when it came to the finer things in life, it was better to know that you were getting your money’s worth.
You wished Sanji was here to help you. He always took good care of his appearance, preferring dress shirts and slacks to your jeans. If anyone knew how buying a suit should go, it was him. For all you knew, you were walking into this shop to get swindled. Lost in thought, you picked at your cuticles. If you were being honest, a part of you wanted to keep your little shopping spree a secret. Such a drastic change in style was out of character for you, and you would rather not be teased for it.
You hummed, looking left, then looking right. No one you recognized. Your purse was heavy on your hip, more than enough to get you two fancy suits and more. A cloud that had previously been blocking the sun moved out of the way, causing sunlight to spill over your shoulders and make the suit almost glow.
“Fuck it,” You said. “It’s fine.”
With that, you squared your shoulders and strolled into the store, prepared for the hefty price tag that was surely waiting for you. Instead, you were met with the sweetest old lady you had ever met, and a discount for being so patient. Bag in hand, you took off towards the sunny, a grin you couldn’t wipe off on your cheeks.
You couldn’t wait to try it on again in the comfort of your own room. Sometimes, the mirrors in shops lied. If you were truly going to know if you got your money's worth, it would be back home. You giggled to yourself, doing a small spin on your heel. Giddiness welled in your chest like a fountain.
Today was a good day.
—
“Oh, today was a spectacular day,” You muttered as you admired yourself in the mirror. No one had returned from the island so you were alone until everyone’s little shopping spree had ended. That gave you more than enough time to prance around in your new purchase for as long as you wanted.
You were worried it would be hard to move in. Formal wear always looked so stiff, you were sure you would feel trapped if you ever wore anything like it. Now that you were in one, however, it was the opposite. Your new suit fit you like a glove, pulled in at your waist to accentuate your figure. You raised your hands over your head, then bent to touch your toes, relishing in the give the fabric gave. There was no fear or any rips of tears, you felt like you could run a marathon if you wanted. The suit was everything you wanted and more. You couldn’t help but give a little giggle as you posed in front of the mirror.
Damn, you looked good.
A knock at the door shattered your joyful mood, quickly replacing it with anxiety. Your skin buzzed uncomfortably. There was no way you could change fast enough before whoever was at the door got bored if waiting and waltzed in. Privacy was in short supply on the Thousand Sunny. You looked at your reflection, almost laughing at your deer in headlights expression.
“Don’t come in, I’m naked,” You yelled the first thing you could think of, immediately regretting it as soon as it left your mouth.
“That’s alright, my love, I can come back later.” Even worse, it was Sanji at the door, probably off to nurse a nosebleed.
Chewing on your next words, you tried again, “Just kidding!”
Your boyfriend let out a strained laugh, “Okay. Well, I was only wondering what you would like to eat for dinner.”
Softly, you padded over to the door so you could hear him clearer. If anyone caught you like this, you’d want it to be Sanji. He could give you tips you didn’t know previously, and you knew he would never tease you like the others if he found out. Heart pounding in your chest, you turned the knob, poking your head out into the hall. As you guessed, Sanji was covering his nose with a tissue to stifle some of the blood flow, a rosy hue on his cheeks.
He smiled when he saw you, eyes soft. “Hello, sweetheart.”
You kept the rest of your body out of view as you hardened your gaze. “I need your help. And don’t you dare laugh at me.”
“I would never dream of laughing at you. You are my angel, all I know is to sing your praises.” Sanji’s curiosity got the better of him, stepping closer to peer into your quarters. His brows knit in concern when you didn’t move. “Is everything alright?”
With a sigh, you let the door creak open, arms open wide. “How do I look?”
Not wasting a second, Sanji pulled you into a tight hug. “You look marvelous, my love,” He said into your hair. You giggled when he lifted you and spun you around a few times for good measure.
“Are you sure?” You asked, feet now firm on the ground. “It’s not weird I’m wearing this? Suits usually aren’t my thing.”
“Yes, I’m sure. You’d look wonderful wearing rags, my love, let alone a finely tailored suit.” Sanji looked you up and down, admiring you and the suit that adorned your body. “Where did you get this? The stitching is so precise…”
Allowing him to inspect you — a tissue still stuck in his nostril from his earlier nosebleed — you smiled to yourself. “A sweet old lady runs a shop just off main street, I can show you later if you want.”
“I’d love to go.”
A moment of silence passed between you, Sanji admiring while you stood stock still and allowed him to fidget with the hems of your sleeves.
“You know, you can borrow this sometime if you want. Just so it gets more use. You always dress so nice.”
He laughed, blue eyes lit up like the ocean on a sunny day. “I think this would be a little too small for me, angel.” You watched his expression shift, a bit of blood dribbling from his other nostril before it was promptly stifled with another tissue. Sanji cleared his throat. “Although… If you’d like to wear any of my clothes, you’re welcome to whenever you’d like.”
“I think I may take you up on that offer.”
After all, what was better than comfy clothes? Comfy boyfriend clothes that get them all hot and bothered.
And, of course, your brand new suit.
#one piece x reader#sanji x reader#sanji x you#sanji x yn#.jesterwrites#i typo’d suit as shit so many times if you see one i missed you didnt
167 notes
·
View notes
Note
I love your art style, especially how energetic it is! How did your art style get such dynamic lines? Do you have any tips/advice/ideas on how to do that?
Thank you!
Um... I'm not sure how to go about it, but I’ll try and give some tips on line confidence.
I think my main advice would be to not let your sketch box you in- keeping it at a really low opacity so that your eyes don’t get used to seeing it with your line art when you draw over it (having your sketch opacity too high can give a different impression of your line work), leaving room to exaggerate or play around with fresh lines in the next phase.. It’s easier to do when you’re confident in your subject, so the sketch should be stable enough to convey that, but have fun with the process otherwise! For me, good line art comes out when I’m actively finding ways to build off the sketch’s energy while lining it, not when I’m trying to limit myself to it/already 100% happy with what it provides.
Here's a bit of a visualization! When going from the sketch to the line art, I was thinking that I could improve the flow of the cape, so I made the upper part less flat and balanced its curve with the bottom to keep the energy flowing. The slope of Kalim's pose could balance the curve of Jamil's sarouel, so I leaned into that when putting down the lines for Kalim's. Meanwhile having some areas be more linear helps give contrast. Line of action, straights against curves, etc. (I think this is delving more into gestural talk now)
I'd recommend studying artists whose linework you enjoy too! Kaisen_Tobiuo was-and still is- a big inspiration of mine growing up for how expressive their works and line art felt. Also study naruto fanartists they're cracked
It ended up being a bit of a ramble, but I hope this could help op!
#ask#will say i was already feeling good that day when doing the line art for the sketch; some days require more information#arts not a linear process so take note of how youre feeling that day and adjust your method accordingly#and looking at the sketch again theres different ways i could have gone about it! dont be afraid to experiment#most of all though have fun! the process is a lot smoother if you enjoy it#and if you dont enjoy it find blorbos that will make it enjoyable for you#sorry for the late response btw!! really wanted to think this one thru; i have a lot of love for this subject but talking is not my forte
65 notes
·
View notes
Note
(Note that @angelsadvocate96 also included a screenshot of AL's post, which I am omitting here since we have two already.)
I did see this Insta story yesterday, and again...wow. Before I go any further, I want to be clear that my issue with this has nothing to do with it being "inappropriate" (depending on your definition, of course). I am by no means a prude, and it is not and should not be shocking that Michael and AL have had sex. We know this, and we have proof of this, so that is not a big thing. I do, however, think it is interesting that just a few days ago, we had Michael being David's "boyfriend" and now here's AL seemingly marking her territory again. So that makes me wonder what has suddenly changed.
Also, as angelsadvocate96 mentioned, this does indeed seem to be a Georgia-style brag...but it falls flat. It doesn't help that "sleep next to" is just a really weird turn of phrase, and could as easily mean AL and Michael's beds are next to each other (a la every 1950s TV sitcom) as it does that they're sleeping in the same bed. It also stops short of being overtly sexual (because she didn't say "sleep with"), and so ends up in that weird place of trying to be scandalous, yet also not. But when you have Georgia out here five years ago talking about how much she and David enjoy anal sex and possibly her pegging him, Anna's "innuendos" just seem completely tepid in comparison.
The other thing that stood out to me is the mention of Ian McKellen, the #lifegoals hashtag, and Anna seemingly bragging about the fact that one of the most important parts of her relationship with Michael is meeting celebrities. We knew this already from the Dolittle premiere and the now-infamous picture of her meeting Rami Malek, as well as the fact that she follows many of Michael's co-stars and other famous figures connected to him on social media, and has had a history of replying primarily to comments from those people, to the exclusion of most everyone else. But I'm genuinely confused as to why you would ever want to give that impression of your relationship, especially on a post that's supposed to be promoting a TV appearance of his.
Her post also made me wonder how aware Anna really is of Sir Ian or his work, as I wasn't sure I could see her being a big fan of his...until I realized she shared this post from her and Michael's PR person (@dobbscld). The OP mentioned Sir Ian specifically, and knowing that, it suddenly all made sense. But it also struck me that, rather than make a post or story of her own to promote Michael, AL shared a post from PR...and once again made a post about Michael into a post about herself. Just as we've seen before.
Honestly, I don't think I would even mind this post or similar posts AL has made that much if it felt like Michael was even remotely a part of it. But it's the very fact that he never talks about her or their relationship (and not in a "he's a private person" kind of way) that makes it so awkward. And here he was going on Graham Norton to promote his directorial debut--a project that is hugely important to him--and Anna just brings it down to the most base level, making it seem like she does not take Michael or his work seriously. And I can't think of anything more embarrassing than that.
So yes, that was my reaction to AL's Insta story yesterday. Again, this is just my perspective, and I'm glad to hear from folks in the comments on this post with their thoughts. Thanks for writing in! x
#moriarty-sisters#kime11e#angelsadvocate96#reply post#michael sheen#welsh seduction machine#the graham norton show#it's like the more she tries to make people think there is something to be jealous of#the more it seems like there is nothing to be jealous of#and the more she tries to look like she owns him the more obvious it is she doesn't#because how in the world can you take a relationship like this seriously#i'm genuinely asking#choices#not all of them good#but i will leave it to my followers to make up their own minds#anna lundberg#discourse
75 notes
·
View notes
Text
OP smutty headcanons pt. 3
warning ⚠️ no minors ⚠️
Just some fun headcanons I have for some of the OP men ☠️
OP men: Smoker, Shanks, Mihawk
pt. 1 pt. 2
Smoker:
- might be surprised but he’s a total gentle lover. He likes taking his sweet time, wants to see you laid out in front of him. wants to devour every single part of you at his own pace. Everyone knows not to EVER knock when his door is closed.
- he’s an ass man. He likes grabbing a handful of you when no one’s looking - of course, it’s all consensual. He wouldn’t do it if you weren’t okay with it. His favorite thing is having you bent over his lap while he’s doing paperwork at his desk. Cigars in mouth, one hand writing out his report while the other hand massages your ass. You don’t mind, it’s relaxing and most times you fall asleep.
- speaking of desk work, when he’s stress you like to tell him to relax in his chair. “Don’t let this job stress you out so much, Smoker. Now sit back and let me take care of you…” your blowjobs never fail to get him to chill.
- favorite position is cowgirl style. He just wants to see you bouncing on his huge cock.
- he’s gonna eat you out from behind. He likes to blow smoke into your pussy and eat you out, he’s filthy.
- aftercare includes helping you off his desk or out of bed, getting you a towel so he can personally clean you up. He’s not a cuddly person but he will kiss you longing and tenderly before leaving you to get back to work. He always promises to come see you later for dinner.
Shanks:
- he’s got an enormous cock. He’s gonna need you to suck it. He likes you on your knees, hands on his thighs as your head bobs up and down. He won’t be aggressive about it, he’s gonna run his fingers through your hair and tell you how you’re doing a great job. When you gag, he always chuckles and tells you to take it slow.
- cream pies all day. He wants his cum dripping out of you and then he’s gonna take his finger, run it up against your pussy and then to your mouth. “Give it a little taste, sweetheart.”
- he likes missionary. He’s simple when it comes to positions, doesn’t need fancy tricks: he’s gonna make you cum several times no matter what.
- praise kink (giving) “you’re a good girl…” is his favorite thing to say to you. He likes you shy, he wants you blushing. It turns him on.
- fingering/edging (giving): he can make you come in seconds with his fingers, if he really wanted to: He likes rubbing at your clit but stopping when he knows you’re about to cum. He’ll do it over and over until you’re begging and panting, grinding on his thigh in desperation. Only then will he finally make you cum on his fingers, pulling them out to get a little taste. “It always tastes better when I tease you.”
- scratching (receiving) he likes when you drag your nails down his back: they feel like badges of honor.
- aftercare. He’s a gentlemen, especially after sex. Wet towel clean up, making sure you’re comfortable and then he just wants to lay in bed. Cuddling but he’s the big spoon. Neck kisses as he falls asleep.
Mihawk:
- emotionally unavailable but he’s a very tentative lover. He likes spending time with you and will fuck you whenever you ask. But you have to ask, he’s not gonna put himself out there like that. He always makes sure you leave his bedroom satisfied and wanting more. He’s a snarky little bitch and will tease you endlessly about how badly you want him:
- eat you out for days. Legs spread out on his bed, he likes laying on his stomach to get a better view. His head nestled between your thighs, he’ll tease you with his tongue before going in deeper. Won’t stop until he can taste you on his tongue.
- praise kink (giving) he likes to call you his good “little pet” and enjoys vocalizing how good you feel.
- doggy style; he wants you on all fours, his body pressed against yours. Make little sounds for him, he wants you whimpering.
- biting: he likes nipping you all over your body, especially the insides of your thighs.
- he’s into threesomes. Men? Women? Why not both, doesn’t matter as long as it feels good. If there’s another women, he wants to eat you out while fingering the other chick. A man joining you two? His topping while the other guy eats you out. Those are his favorite positions in those situations. CONSENSUAL KING - ONLY IF YOU’RE DOWN.
- aftercare: he has everything you might need to clean up in his bathroom ready for you. Towels, a bath ready, anything your little heart desires. He won’t personally clean you up or bath with you but if you’re just taking a shower, he’ll jump right in. Usually you two share a meal and drink after cleaning up.
…………………..
Send more op requests including women characters!
133 notes
·
View notes
Text
Old Bones | Chapter Eleven
Summary: After fleeing a toxic relationship, you fear for your safety and hire a bodyguard. He's masked, impassible, and damn good at what he does.
Warning(s): PTSD/abuse themes, explicit content (18+), strong language, depictions of nightmares/panic attacks, hurt/comfort, smut, p in v sex, unprotected s*x, hehe
Word Count: 6.2k
A/N: Watch by Billie Eilish + Fine Line by Harry Styles inspired this chapter. Not proofread entirely, so don't mind mistakes. Enjoy!
꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ GHOST MASTERLIST
// have a request?
⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ prev. chapter | next chapter | ao3 ver. | playlist
꒦꒷ O.B MASTERLIST
Watch Me Burn
“Think this is the last of it.” Simon huffs, setting down the last box.
You were finally back there, standing in the middle of the home Cal and you once shared. Selling it was too much of a hassle, and it was decently sized. Perhaps it was a calm before a storm; how tranquil you felt standing in the middle of the entrance hall. Or the kitchen, the dining room, worst of all—the bedroom.
But you were here now, and he was soon to be cremated. There was no room for dwelling, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself. And Simon? His awkwardness has been well disguised if there is any left by now.
The drunken kiss—it was just that; a drunken kiss.
With the horrible shit you two had been through to land you here, unresolved tension became the new way of communicating. You began to think you both fed on the chaos like if things were too calm, the world would implode.
“Thank you.” You say, playing with the new house keys. Internally, you were showing gratitude for more than just him moving a few boxes, it was how resilient he had been, despite all your baggage and unpredictability.
He merely nods, reaching into his pocket for his carton of cigarettes. He was going to leave you to do… whatever it was you needed to do in order to be comfortable here. Simon hadn’t expected you to ever want to be back here, to want to spend your new riches on travel.
However, if Simon learned anything about you during these months; life on the road didn’t suit you, especially not with him. And in truth, he had no plans once you got settled here. At first, he was going to move straight to his next op, forget about this one.
It was abundantly clear he was well past self-control, though. That’s what frightened him the most.
You turned yourself in a circle a few times, admiring the high ceilings and decor still left behind. It was the same as Christmas Eve, only the evidence of Cal’s tantrum had been long cleaned up. He really wasn’t here when he was hunting you—he had sent a housesitter, most likely, given the fact that there wasn’t a speck of dust in the main living area.
There were only small reminders; the scuffs on the hardwood, the dents by the china cabinet, and a nasty scratch in the dining table from the night you left. You’d be lying if looking at the damages didn’t paint a vivid image of each blow that causes them.
When you gazed at the scuffed hardwood, you remembered the way he flipped the table the first time you fought. Then, the china cabinet—merely a cabinet of things for him to hurl in your direction. Worst of all, the dining table with a scratch from the knife you grabbed, scraping across the oak when he dragged you across it.
In each small area, you were rewatching the moment as a numb spectator, as if you had a third-person viewing of your fight for your life.
You hadn’t realized, but you had been literally walking down memory lane, physically tracing your fingertips along each reminder. “Found this in the truck, must’ve fallen out of your bag.” His sudden presence startled you, but it was a blessing. Any longer, and you would’ve probably ripped up the real estate papers and kept moving.
He was outstretching one of your necklaces, one you definitely didn’t want to be left behind. “Thank you,” you said it again, a double entendre barely concealed with your wavering voice. His poker face made it hard to decipher his awareness—for all you knew he could be feeling nothing towards you.
Simon’s eyes found the dent in the wall, recalling just how long your fingertips skimmed it, the nauseous look on your face. He debated on this next move, but his feet found a position behind you anyway since you didn’t take the jewelry from him yet.
“I hate the carpet. And everything in the dining room.” His subtle breath was the only thing alerting you of his close proximity, or you probably wouldn’t have even noticed. Two hands came in front of you, opening the necklace and slowly wrapping it around the base of your neck. If you hadn’t just been morbidly reminiscing, perhaps your breathing would’ve changed a bit.
He clicked the necklace in place, his gruff voice gentle and appreciative, “so get rid of it all.” It was almost a whisper like he was giving you the permission you didn’t need but were so obviously asking him for. It was your home to renovate, not his.
Simon’s breath smelled of fresh cigarette smoke, lingering in a cloud around you even after his simple words concluded. A hand lingered on your shoulder, giving it a small pat, before he retreated out to the untouched living room.
There was no sense in keeping the reminders, and none of it was to your taste. It was time to get to work if you had any shot of moving on from Cal.
Once you got started, you found it hard to stop.
Tearing out furniture and ripping up the carpet was surprisingly therapeutic, even with the emotional baggage the material things carried. The place was empty, but not understimulating. To you, it was a pleasing blank canvas you had full power to refurbish and leave the old behind. Cleaning up the mess was just an afterthought, but soothing to your soreness from all the handy work.
Of course, Simon would carry heavy things out, or assist in moving something for you. But when you were aggressively hammering a nail and grunting? He… found it beneficial to stay out of your way, with no clue whose face you might’ve been picturing while doing it.
The kitchen was shockingly tidy; the fridge was empty, as were the cabinets. You tackled that room last, disinfecting and placing the few food items you brought with you. Of course, it was a depressing sight; all those cabinets with only a few canned items and some granola bars. On the bright side, you’d only ever seen Simon eat once, so he wasn’t your worry.
Groceries would be a task for tomorrow. For now, you need to rest your legs and feet.
Simon claimed the spare room, which once was Cal’s office. You peered inside of it when you strolled down the hall—he had already laid out a blanket and pillow on the daybed. It was nice enough, for someone like him, at least.
You were taking advantage of the king-sized bed, though. Not one night in your marriage, did you ever get it to yourself. Sometimes you would snuggle in it, hopeful that this would be the night Cal didn’t come up the stairs and join you—or more commonly, that he would be too drunk to drive home.
He never was, of course; a natural buzzkill and energy vampire.
But it was yours now, the whole master bedroom. It had the nicest view of all the rooms; two large windows above the nightstand that overlooked the street, the bed in between them, and a fireplace seating area in the corner. Not that you ever needed this much room, or could even fill the space with all your belongings, but you had earned the right to spoil yourself. It was your home as much as it was his, even though it didn’t feel that way with Cal.
You practically expelled all the air in your lungs, the second your back hit the plush mattress. You sprawled out, almost in a starfish position as you looked around at your new room. The walls had always been kept white, as did the sheets—allowing you to picture it entirely renovated, to your design taste.
Though, if you had another minute of thinking about renovation, you would’ve lost your mind. You hadn’t even taken off your shoes, and your eyes were fluttering shut. In all honesty, you were too worn out to care about the position you were in, or the shoes still on your feet.
—
You sat up in the bed, feeling yourself in the exact position you had snoozed. You looked at the alarm clock to your right, red numbers being one of the only sources of light.
12:32 AM
Clearly, you needed it, because you hadn’t even moved in your sleep, or pulled the covers up. You reached up a hand, rubbing your tired eyes. Of course, you were now wide awake at midnight. Just your luck.
You propped yourself up on your elbows, embraced by the softness of the bed beneath you. A warm tingle was overtaking you like you were taking a soothing shower or bath. It was perfect… Too good to be true, right?
The bedroom was the same, nothing disturbed. But, as comforting as it was, something was off balance. There was no faint sound of the TV downstairs or the occasional clearing of his throat, only the white noise of the AC.
Now that you’ve moved and gathered your bearings—it was icy cold, more than what could be blowing from the vents. And… there was a mumble growing louder; a man’s voice you couldn’t decipher from your room.
Your legs swung off the edge of the bed, taking an instinctual look over your shoulder as if searching for the source of this ill feeling. There was no monster in the shadows, or a hand from under the bed grasping at your ankle. Not even the feeling of a presence—but you knew there was one. Who was talking, at this hour? The confusion made your brows knit, and your mouth hang open slightly.
Normally, you would’ve just got up and investigated the sound. But, getting to your feet was taking some courage right now, and you were moving about half the speed you would any other time. When you turned your head toward the bathroom, the door was still open—the washroom was nothing but a pitch-black abyss right now.
And the closet? You were too shaky to go in that direction, shaking your head at the idea immediately. That left the door in and out of the bedroom, where the muffle was coming from somewhere in the home.
You fingered the brumal knob, feeling it sting against your steaming flesh. The air was cold, causing goosebumps, but you were simultaneously burning up from a feeling of impending doom. The hinges cracked, almost sounding similar to the low-octave male voice still audible.
The door opened and it was… the hallway. The same way it was when you went to sleep, only illuminated by one of the sconces. Still, the sound was coming from the spare room. When you looked, there was a near-blinding light coming from under the door.
A hushed, growly whisper went past you—no, through you, like a stranger passing you on the street while speaking. You shivered again, eyes darting down each side of the hall. Down the steps, it was like the master bath, a dark abyss you didn’t want to trek through.
That left the spare room in all its blinding glory, and whoever, whatever was behind the door. This time, you pushed forward with all the speed you could muster. Not even a light jog, as if you had the weight of the Earth constricting your joints.
The muffle got louder, even overbearing when you opened the door to the spare room. It wasn’t the empty room with stray boxes and tools—it wasn’t your house at all. You squinted and held up your forearm to shield the light, taking several seconds for your eyes to adjust. It was the large windows—those large windows from the office building. And now, you could hear the voice clearer now.
You turned the corner and saw yourself. The moment Cal was creeping up on you, touching your waist. Though you were watching it from a different angle, seemingly watching it play out the same way it happened—it wasn’t. The woman you were watching, she wasn’t moving, not budging against his hands. She was… just standing there, white-knuckling the glass of whiskey her husband poured for her. He leaned closer, and as he tightened the grip on her waist, you felt two hands on yours, two that felt very lucid. So tight you felt like the assailant had sharp claws.
You could smell him; the stench of whiskey and cruelty warm on your neck. But you couldn’t speak, not scream, or resist. Just like the replay of the day he died, you were standing there like her, the guilt of being weak-kneed made you sick.
He could’ve clawed you in half, how harshly he was holding you in place. It was like a mockery of watching what would’ve happened if you didn’t break the glass over his head—and he was making you watch. Every second, every struggle, every cruel thing Cal would’ve said if you let him touch you.
This wasn’t you. You wanted to bellow at her to fight him, and more so at yourself for not making a run for it. Why couldn’t you move? Despite his hands feeling like they were going to tear you in half? It was pure humiliation—the woman in front of you that once got off the kitchen floor on Christmas Eve, now a face of blood and bone.
You turned around slowly, feeling salty tears go from your face all the way down to your lips.
His sneer would’ve been seen for miles—the sadism written on Cal’s face as if he was still feeding on your tears, even in death, even in your dreams. It wasn’t just his mortal face, it was the one he was left with in death—a spewing bullet wound through the forehead soaking you in his blood.
You could taste it after a few seconds, the metallic taste coating your face and body the closer he leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, just like the day they did in the office. The crimson was filling your mouth, causing you to hack and reach for your throat.
Your shoes squeaked against the marble floor of the office, looking down and seeing gallons of the stuff pooling. You could feel his blood trickle and seep into the fabric of your clothes, in the whites of your eyes with an excruciating burn.
As badly as you wanted to call out his name, your mouth was too coated to get the words out. It was hot, so hot it made you stumble. Your vision was gone—replaced by the blood that flooded your irises. You felt yourself nearly fall, as you ripped yourself from his grip.
You were palming through the ruby of your vision, arms outstretched. Though you couldn’t see, you could still feel him looming over you, watching in amusement as the pools of blood squelched under your feet.
Then, you felt your hands grip something, or someone. You hung on for dear life, blinking away the currant that washed your vision. It still seared, still coated your throat and face, but you could finally make out the figure; Simon.
You blinked rapidly, a chest cough followed by more blood as you watched him. He was staring straight ahead at first, until he felt you beating on his chest, yanking on the fabric of his clothes, just like you had done when strangled. The lifeless version of Cal, he had fizzled out the second Simon approached, nowhere to be seen in the shadows of the office anymore. As well as the alternate version of Cal and you—they were gone too.
Left in the room, it was you and Simon. One soaked with blood, gasping for breath. The other was tattered and seething at the sight.
Simon’s eyes widened as if he had just now noticed you. His hulking, veiny hands are outstretched, cupping each side of your saturated face, taking a step closer to you. Under the mask, you could see the fabric move, like he was speaking to you—but your sound was muffled again.
You plummet from a great height. Adrenaline-fueled rush courses through your veins, instantly jolting your senses awake. The wind roars past your ears with an ear-piercing howl. Your stomach clenches and churns, a sensation that feels like a roller coaster taking a wild descent. The feeling of weightlessness washes over you as if gravity has momentarily lost its grip, leaving you suspended in a free-falling void.
The pit of your stomach seems to drop with each passing moment as if trying to catch up to the plummeting rest of your body.
The blackness seizes hastily—your view is of widened amber eyes, and you can feel the same hands cupping your cheeks, just like the nightmare. The burn in your throat wasn’t from blood, it was from your screaming. The searing in your eyes, it was stemming from the tears streaming down your cheeks.
For the first few seconds, you were still half-in, half-out, pounding on his chest with all the shaky strength you could muster.
“Look at me, look at me.” Simon kept repeating it, only gripping the sides of your face faster. If he wasn’t restricting you, you were surely going to hurt yourself or him, so he had to. You were hyperventilating, still stuck in that dream-like state of terror and the threat of him attacking you. His pressing weight was caging you in place, no matter how much you yelped and thrashed to get running.
In a swift movement, Simon tugged at the edge of his mask, pulling it entirely off his head. “It’s me, it’s me!” He raised his voice, his identity now in your full sight. When he was wearing the mask, he probably appeared more like a masked intruder than a comforting soul—he had to snap you out of this, even if it meant breaking his own rules.
You could see him now; a chiseled jaw and protruding eyes cloaked by years of dark circles, a faint stubble across his chin, and that scar you had touched a few nights ago. It wasn’t an assailant or Cal, it was Simon.
Your hollers halted, now only quiet sobs against his chest. Everything in the dream felt so vivid, so real, lucid enough you were controlling your every movement, but not enough to rid yourself of the threat. The adrenaline you felt during the night terror left you unable to shut your eyes or stop wailing as if you were being actively hunted for sport.
“I’m sorry. It felt too real, Simon.” You whispered against his chest, one hand digging your nails deep into his bicep. His knees were on either side of your waist, anchoring you up enough to use him as a pillow. It seemed the only way he could successfully wake you was to straddle your frame, to cup your cheeks.
What he had done in the present, injected its way into the night terror—perhaps the reason it all felt too real.
“I know.” A calloused thumb stroked your cheek, his head resting against the crook of your neck. He didn’t need to ask the source of the nightmare, and he wasn’t going to. It was a natural reaction, being in this house all day reminded of your worst memories. You tried to hide it throughout the day, but Simon was too observant for his own good.
When he heard your shrieks in the next room, half-asleep on the daybed, he knew. This would’ve happened eventually. Just because Cal was dead, didn’t mean he was dead to you. His ghost still loomed in every room of that place, a constricting weight on your shoulders.
He had witnessed his fair share of adrenaline highs and experienced plenty on his own too. Only then, he didn’t have the luxury of a shoulder to cry on. There was no way in hell he would damn you to that same loneliness he had, no matter how much his inner voice bellowed at him to put the mask back on.
“Sit up, you won’t be so shaky.” Once hovering over you, he eased up, a gentle tug on your wrist to get you sitting up. Eyes still wide, tear stains on yourself and the fabrics of the bed. He looked behind him, seeing the armchair by the fireplace. Simon guided you to it, allowing you to sit down somewhere other than the bed occupied with memories.
He dropped to his knees in front of you slowly, a fist finding your ankle. You flashed a look of confusion, but you weren’t in any position to protest. It felt safe, despite the outward appearance Simon had—broody and dripping with masculinity.
His fingers found the tongue of the shoes you fell asleep wearing, pulling them off slowly.
“Better?” He asks, figuring out the answer quite quickly based on your silence. You nodded in response, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve. It felt the same as it did when you were younger; embarrassed for being afraid of a nightmare. It was just that—a nightmare, but that didn’t mean you didn’t feel every bit of it.
The light from the hallway was the only thing allowing you to see his face; washed out by the golden tint of the light bulb, but pleasing to look at. “Thank you, Simon.” God, how many times you said it that day, probably too many times. He would never accept it, not since the beginning of this road, and especially not after what happened at the apartment.
But, without his mask, he didn’t have his usual safety net of anonymity. His face was as blank as you expected it would be, aside from the slight scowl on his lips. “Stop sayin’ that.” He wanted to get up, but his palm remained wrapped around your calf, gazing at you with confliction.
You tilted your head to the side, leaning against the backrest of the armchair, “yeah, but I meant it.”
“I know you did,” he replied, his speech still a mumble even without the mask, “that’s why I said not to.” Simon didn’t deserve the gratitude, as far as he was concerned. Especially not from you. The last thing on your mind should be thanking him, being kind to him, and even looking him in the eye. But you did—every single day.
“You know you don’t have to stay, right?” You asked, the flicker of the hall light still concealing his pout slightly. You didn’t mean here, you meant in general; he didn’t have to, but he always did. You inhaled sharply, feeling his thumb still caressing your calf soothingly. “And… I’m not upset with you. You have to know that, at least.”
Perhaps it was the fog in your mind or the nerves still working overdrive, but his silence was too still for your liking. It wasn’t distaste, it was his old habits keeping him from indulging.
The hand was removed quickly and placed back on his own knee. You heard the shuffle of his pant fabric like he was going to stand up and leave the bedroom. But he didn’t—his head dropped in the direction of the floor.
“Simon?” Your tone was hushed, eyes squinted with unsettle.
“Stop it.” He grumbled, the whites of his eyes still glowing within the dim lighting. Simon blinked slowly when he met your gaze again, unable to accept the perturb. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t. That much was obvious.
He heard you stammer, a sentence cut short when he spoke so firmly. “Stop being so fuckin’ nice to me.” Though the words themselves were harsh, it was nothing more than a defeated whisper—a plea to halt your tenderness before he lost all self-control.
What he desired was to find the mask he flung only minutes ago, slip it on, and slam the door behind him. His presence remained; a commanding voice, despite being the one kneeling in front of you. And you? Ever persistent, and he despised it with every fiber of his being.
You scoffed, but it was coming from a place of intense empathy. “Am I supposed to scream at you? Beat you bloody?” The question hung in the air for a few seconds, followed by a snappy retort. He would never let himself relax, even feel, could he?
“No, you need to stop treating me like someone you deserve. You’re not that stupid.” Simon hissed with a slight roll of his eye. You clutched each armrest tightly, mouth slightly hung open from his self-pity.
His shell was breaking—the umbrage was just the last futile attempt at restricting you before it shattered completely. When that happened—and it would—he had but a clue about his next step. Why had he remained in this spot for so long, kneeling so closely to you?
“Why did you stay then? The night at the cabin, after Cal?” It surely wasn’t because he had to. You were onto him, and you weren’t going to let him go now, not unless he packed up and left right this second.
His stammer said enough, the tightened grip on his own appendage as if he was squeezing the reply from his own body. If he said what he wanted to, it wouldn’t be something cruel. He couldn’t be cold to you. That’s what frightened him the most.
You hunched forward slightly, a hovering hand on his shoulder. Simon tensed out of reflex, but didn’t physically stop you—he couldn’t anymore. Tonight was a breaking point, and his face had been in your sights for several minutes now.
“Don’t do this.” Finally, he gathered his bearings and clamped a hand around your wrist, the sheer size of his hand swallowing yours entirely. He let out a heavy breath, his glowing eyes burning holes into yours.
Your reply was as simple as blunt as you could muster; a one-worded question you’ve had for a long time. “Why?”
His fingers clenched a little tighter, expecting you to squirm. But you didn’t. “Because I won’t be able to stop myself,” he blinked slowly, eyes drooping with the small sliver of weakness he was showing you right now. Who said you wanted him to stop? In fact, nothing about you did. Not even your reddened eyes, or the tension you carried. It was a simple concept to grasp, but someone as stubborn as himself hadn’t. Yet.
This time, it was you who initiated the intimacy. It wasn’t sensuality; it was reassurance—something Simon needed desperately. You pressed your forehead against his, fingers finding the stubble you could finally touch.
He breathed heavily into the kiss, an instinctual hand protecting the back of your head when he pushed your weight back into the armchair. Somewhere in it, he had stood up again, able to deepen the lip contact by hovering over you. Simon should’ve fought it, but he didn’t. He wanted you to pull away and realize how ridiculous he felt against you, but you did not.
His lips pulled away with a moist squelch, still a hand on the back of your head. The drunken kiss was messy and heated. This was stone-cold sober—much needed and full of feelings. Simon seemed to be searching for hesitance, any excuse to halt his desires. You only breathed heavily from the loss of air, unblinking and desperate for more.
You nodded slightly, an unspoken plea for that part of him that couldn’t stop himself. Though it seemed like you were leading things, you didn’t have a clue what the hell you were doing either. It just felt right at the moment. After the nod, his free hand clasped the collar of your shirt, pulling you to your feet. He scanned the room around him, though he already memorized the layout the first time he walked in. It was as if he was searching for prying eyes that weren’t there—an instinct when his face was visible.
Instead of the sides of your head, his fingers found your waist, digging into them as he backed you against the dresser. Without a struggle on his end, he lifted you on top of it so he could stand between your parted thighs.
It couldn’t be the bed; it was too domestic for the both of you. He needed somewhere you could easily pull away from him and walk away, as he’d convinced himself you were going to. There was no way this act would carry out completely, right? The rational portion of you had to be buried deep in your lust.
Simon’s fingers gave your waistband a tug, pulling your bottoms off entirely. His eyes remained trained on yours the entire time, expecting some sort of resistance. Hell, he was expecting a slap on his cheek that never came. You wanted this; you wanted him.
The pad of his finger found your swollen clit, rubbing paced circles on the nerves. You felt your breath hitch at the sensation, a clench around the wooden edge of the dresser. Despite how much you wanted this, it was like an out-of-character blur. Simon, being the face to match the lustful hands? You never thought of that as a sight you’d see, never in a million years.
His heavy breathing was just as arousing, how lustfully he was watching despite not being the one being touched. Words weren’t coming out, but the language of stares was all the two of you needed right now. Simon could keep searching for refusal, but he wasn’t going to find it. Not while he was massaging your clit so intimately.
The pleasure built rather quickly, as did the pace of your hips rocking against his hands. It had been so long since you touched yourself, let alone a sexual partner doing it for you. When his finger ceased, you let out a small mewl from the emptiness.
From the moonlight illuminating his features, your eyes wandered at the sound of his belt unbuckling. He did it with such haste, such experience. He unzipped his jeans next, pulling them down to his knees to allow access.
Instinctively, you outstretched a hand to palm him through his boxers. It was what you were used to: I do something for you, you have to do the same for me.
“No.” Simon hissed, placing your hands back at your sides. It wasn’t because he didn’t want you to stroke him—he didn’t want the focus on him. You seeing his face was all the focus he could handle right now.
You kept your hands on either side of you, respecting the boundary he had put up, though you didn’t understand its purpose. He pulled down on the waistband of his black boxers, stroking himself for a few seconds, followed by another hiss. Simon stepped back to his original position between your thighs again, only he pulled them further apart—enough for his wide frame to fit comfortably.
You felt his length pressing against your folds, the knuckle of his hand on your inner thigh as he guided it into position. Before he did, he searched for a nod again, or anything, really. You obliged, bracing yourself by clamping down on his shoulder. It had been a long time since you had sex, so it wasn’t going to be particularly comfortable at first. A man of Simon’s stature, no matter the amount of arousal that pooled—you would have to be eased into it.
He guided the tip in first, eyes darting up and down as he slowly pushed his hips forward, his length coated in the lubricating slick caused by his fingers. You let out a pleasured gasp, not yet feeling the stretch that was coming.
When he was sure of the next phase, he placed his lips against your gasping ones, silencing the inevitable whine of discomfort. Still at a snail's pace, he entered even deeper, enough that you needed to sit with him like that for a moment. It was just that; discomfort, not pain. Yet another factor of intimacy you weren’t accustomed to as of late. “Is that… good?” He whispered against your mouth, still only thrusting a portion of himself out—and slowly.
Since he’d given you time to adjust, the discomfort did fizzle away. “More,” you replied, a slight nod of your head. Now, you were arguably enjoying the sensation more than he was.
This time, he didn’t wait for a refusal.
With an abrupter thrust, he bottomed out inside you. It wasn’t roughness, not yet—just his way of ripping off the bandaid. His lips found yours again, allowing you to bite down on his lower lip at the sudden stretch. The angle he was at; you sitting on top of the dresser with your hips slightly raised, and him standing, it felt euphoric, not agonizing.
“Shit…” A guttural groan fell from his lips as his movements began, methodical and pleasuring for both of you. Every sound you made, every little reaction; it made him twitch deep inside you. This is what he wanted when you two finally gave in—you, writhing in front of him and forced to do nothing but enjoy it.
His tip kissed your cervix with each pump, just enough to make your eyes roll slightly. What the hell you two were doing, the consequences tomorrow, none of it mattered. Lust truly did cloud the two of you this moment, and he wasn’t going to stop unless you asked him.
You felt tears prick at your eyes, but it wasn’t from pain or repulsion. It was from how long you had gone without this shared feeling of desire, the closeness of two people. Simon slowed his movements, wiping away the tear with his thumb. He could tell, it wasn’t a fear of him or the past that haunted you—it was pure satisfaction.
You needed this, no, deserved this from someone who truly deserved you.
His experienced hands found your hips, tugging you closer so your chests were touching. You let out another sharp gasp, holding onto him just as tightly. The tug allowed him to hit a deeper spot inside your walls if that was even possible.
The change in position allowed you to raise your knees higher against him, so much you probably could’ve placed your feet up on the dresser. Simon grunted and increased his speed, one hand on your thigh, and the other a flat palm against the wall in front of him. The furniture piece hit the wall with each relentless thrust, the thumb masked by your shared moans of delight. And they were becoming desperate ones, plain desperate.
Your stomach was doing flips, tightening and churning the longer he went at it like this. And Simon, his head leaned back ever so slightly, he was close too. There was no turning back now, too deep in the sensations. But still, you iron gripped him—as if pleading for him not to pull away—something he had no intention of doing.
“Let it out, love.” He rasped in your ear, his hips still going an uninterrupted pound. Love. The unexpected pet name made your already shaking knees turn to putty. You truly would only last seconds at best, especially with that accent smothering you.
What once was a moan with each thrust, now became a growing holler. That breaking point that had been bubbling, the one he gave you permission to, finally struck you—destructively. Each muscle in your abdomen constricted, your head thrown back against the wall at the feeling of euphoria hitting an all-time high. Simon’s hand, once gripping your thigh, was now protecting the back of your head as it thrashed against the wall. His tongue traced along your jaw and chin, the combination of sensations only prolonging the interval.
His fist balled in your hair, just enough to only cause an enjoyable sting. He leaned back slightly to have a better view of his length going in and out of you. The sounds of your high delighted him, the final permission for him to enjoy his own climax.
When he felt a more violent twitch, he pulled himself out, using his hand to finish the rest. Still, he wouldn’t allow you to touch him, you were sure of that. You panted heavily, mouth still agape in awe of the attraction you felt towards this. Your fingers clenched the sides of the dresser once pulled away, feeling the spew of his cum land on your folds.
Simon trembled slightly, giving one of your clothed breasts a yearning squeeze as he drained himself of his seed.
Then, clarity hit him as quickly as his climax did. “You wanted that, right?” He whispered, eyes now full of searching rather than lust. God, his cluelessness would be the death of him before any enemy. You quickly nodded, now slightly more slumped than before. You thought it was obvious, but he did always have a way of shocking you—in more ways than one, now.
Inside, you were shaking your head and smacking sense into him for his own stubbornness.
“Simon,” you panted, tightening your thighs around his waist, “just shut up. Please.” You pushed your head against into chest, using it as a surface to catch your breath on. The sensations you felt replayed already, leaving you sensitive and breathless, but heinously calm in spite of what you two had just done.
It happened so quickly, but it wasn’t regretful or dissatisfying. It was the exact opposite.
TAGLIST: @random-thot-generator @littleobsessionsandlifeslessons @illyanam1011 @stunkbiggu @bi-witch-bxtch @warm-milk-with-honey @xheera @kiamewrites @01trickster10 @m0chac0ffee @tizylish @midwesternwitchery @ramadiiiisme
#mw2#mw2 fanfic#call of duty#simon riley#task force 141#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#task force 141 x reader#simon riley smut#simon riley fluff#simon riley angst#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n
249 notes
·
View notes
Text
Style - Sirius Black
Summary: you and Sirius enjoy a somewhat on-again, off-again relationship with each other. Marauders era, post Hogwarts.
A/N: The last Sirius fic I wrote was sort of angsty so I'm trying to remedy that with this.
TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist
...could end in burning flames or paradise...
The letter came by owl on the 3rd Tuesday of the month, a crisp envelope, heavy, off-white, your name embossed in golden cursive so delicate it was breathtaking. You were careful not to tear the envelope when you opened it, pulling the card out, the same golden lettering inviting you to the wedding of Lily Evans and James Potter at their home in Godric's Hallow. It would be a summer soiree, a bit of information you knew from a visit there last week and not from the letter itself. Lily had asked you to play maid of honor, since Petunia had outright refused to be part of the wedding in any way at all.
"According to her, I've thrown away my entire identity for this hogwash and she won't play party to it any longer. I think it's just that Vernon she's married, he's a tosser. I hate to speak ill but...least I invited her to my wedding." Lily tapered off at the end as she took the kettle off the stove and poured two cups of tea.
"Well I'll happily take her place," you said, accepting the cup of tea from her.
Lily's kitchen was bright and colorful, with windows that felt as if the garden didn't end outside but instead stretched its vines into the house and breathed life into it. She'd never been much for herbology in school, or even basic gardening when she was home but since moving to the cottage in Godric's Hallow she'd found a new love for working outside with her hands. Like she was breathing life into everything around her. You always loved being there, the house was warm and welcoming and a far cry from the quiet of your flat in Cambridge, but your visits were scarce. Especially as of late, it had taken a summons by owl for you to agree to show up for afternoon tea.
"You'll have to around then, for the rehearsal and the wedding you know? James wants to have a party sometime next week too, sort of an informal announcement that we're marrying. He wanted to just send word, I told him I would send out proper invitations," Lily said,
"I know," you replied, taking a sip of your tea, "I'll be there. You say it like I'm so hard to come by when I'm a fireplace away. James sounds like he has the right idea, anyway. I'd throw a party and then just get married then. Or skip the party." You said, "and the wedding for that matter."
"Oh, I'm well aware that you'd skip the wedding," she laughed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" You tried your best at sounding scandalized but it was empty, you knew what she was referring to but neither of you had ever actually gotten close to talking about it. It was something that everyone heard of secondhand, whoever had been the first to hear it from you or Sirius, no one could remember, but Lily had never directly discussed it with you and you had never told her exactly what happened.
She shrugged, grinning rather mischievously as she did. She looked more like James than herself in that moment, "you know James is making Sirius his best man?"
"I know he is. I saw Remus last week and he mentioned the wedding." You replied. "Why?"
"You'll have to see him."
"Are we going to hash all this out right here over tea? I've got nothing against him, we get on perfectly fine," you said, unable to keep the defensive tone out of your voice.
You had avoided any real discussion about the nature of your relationship with Sirius with any of your friends. They were all his friends too, after all, and it wasn't really any of their business to pry into what happened. Which wasn't really anything particularly astounding.
"You rarely see each other lately," Lily pointed out.
"Are you keeping tabs?" You joked, finishing off the tea and standing to take your cup to the sink. The kitchen door clattered open, James stamping his feet on the door mat before stepping over the threshold. They're behind him, Sirius, stepping into the small kitchen and closing the door behind him. In the three seconds it took him to realize that you were there by the sink, Lily had looked over at you with the sort of apologetic look meant to infer that she had no idea he would be coming through the door at all, let alone while you were here.
"Speak of the devil," you joked, breaking the seconds of awkward silence and the four of you attempted to make out what protocol you were all meant to follow. "Sirius, Lily tells me you'll be walking me down the aisle."
"Sounds like a dream come true," he teased, recovering only a moment after you and flashing you the sort of smile that had made you weak in the knees everyday from 1st to 7th year.
"Don't get any ideas, Petunia doesn't want to come to the wedding," you replied.
"Sounds like you're saving me a very uncomfortable afternoon then."
"Did you both want to stay for dinner? I was just going to gather some veg for a salad and I've got some chicken and pasta to make," Lily offered, looking between the two of you. She'd stood up too and was holding her tea cup and saucer in a death grip. Her voice, on the other hand, remained calm, like nothing at all was bothering her.
"Of course," you agreed, if only to prove that there really was nothing at all wrong and you didn't mind being around Sirius at all. In fact, you wanted to tell her, you hardly thought of him at all. There wasn't any space to tell her that though, and neither of you would have actually believed it at all. "I can grab the veg for you."
"Perfect," Lily nodded.
The basket she used to collect vegetables and fruit from the garden sat atop the fridge and you grabbed it down, having to go up on your tiptoes to reach. From the corner of your eye, Sirius made a move toward you, as if to help, but then clearly thought better of it, shuffling away from the door instead and letting you manage the task yourself.
At least the task of taking the basket out into the garden. It took only three short minutes for Sirius to slip out the kitchen door, closing it quietly behind him and walking to the row of raised beds where Lily had been growing lettuces and spinach. You were tearing arugula and placing it in a pile in the corner of the basket when he found you, standing on the other side of the bed to leave space between the two of you.
"They're all loved up in there," he mentioned, looking back over his shoulder for a moment before he looked back to you, "what've you said to Lily?"
"What've you said to James?" You asked, not looking up as you moved onto some butter lettuce.
"Nothing, he's talking about the wedding being a good time for...you know, for us seeing each other again." Sirius almost laughed when he said it, "figured you hadn't mentioned to Lily that we've been seeing each other."
"I just figured it'd be easier that way...in case we aren't when the wedding comes around." You pointed out.
Sirius pouted at you, lower lip jutting out. What Lily knew was true, you and Sirius had broken up (not for the first time) and you weren't really seeing anyone. Not because you were hiding out or anything so petty, just because you were busy and, times being what they were, you didn't have time to sit around with your friends and eat ice cream and complain. Or whatever it was that Lily had told you would be cathartic. The part of it that she didn't know, that you hadn't told her when you'd mentioned seeing Remus the week prior, was that you'd seen Sirius too. They shared the flat in London after all and it was impossible to avoid seeing Sirius when you saw Remus. Your ex had been there and everything had been fine and then Remus had gone to work (probably knowing exactly what would come of him going to work and leaving the two of you alone) and you were suddenly no longer broken up.
"Don't be such a cynic, it's not becoming," Sirius teased, grinning when you smiled despite yourself.
"Your hair is getting long," you commented, changing the subject abruptly.
"My hair is always long."
"Longer than usual," you replied, reaching out to play with the end of a strand of wavy black hair. Sirius smile softened and his eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he opened them again, watching you pull your hand away and stand up. "Practically on your shoulders."
"You're very concerned about the length of my hair suddenly?" He asked.
"I was thinking about it this morning when we were brushing our teeth but my mouth was full of toothpaste so I couldn't say, and then you went to see James and so I've just thought it again when I looked at you. That your hair is getting long." You explained.
"I appreciate the mention, thank you."
You shook your head at him and went back to choosing vegetables for the salad, moving to another raised bed. Tomatoes this time, you noted. You went for the smallest of them, cherry sized and yellow in color. Sirius followed after you, taking a few off a vine to eat for himself.
"We should get a nice little place like this," he mentioned, looking around the garden. He wasn't sure he could picture the two of you in a garden together but something like it might be nice. Sirius wasn't really a cottage type, not like James and Lily, setting up a cozy little corner of the world where they dreamed of raising a family and cultivating a garden and having neighbors. He wasn't sure he wanted all those things, he felt he was supposed to want them, to dream of waking up on Christmas and coming down to a tree all decorated and lots of little versions of the two of you running about.
"You wouldn't want that," you said, as matter of fact as he knew it to be true. "You would feel too suffocated somewhere like this, who wants to spend forever feeling like they're losing themselves."
"Is that how you thought you would feel?" Sirius asked, reaching for the basket and laying his hand over yours when you gripped the handle.
"No," you smiled at him, lifting the gravity of his words, "it's how I knew you might feel...especially if you were hellbent on convincing yourself that this was what you wanted. Sirius Black tending a garden and going to markets on Sundays? I've known you too long, my love, you can't fool me quite as well as you fool yourself."
Sirius grinned, giving little away as to whether he was bothered by your words or not. He had grown up with you though, been friends long before you were lovers, and he knew that you could be blunt with your words. "Well, we wouldn't have to have this place," Sirius finally said, "we could have a nice little flat in London."
"I do have a nice little flat in London and you stay over quite a lot," you reasoned. You were tempted to add that enough of his belongings had made their way into your little flat that there was no way to ever truly expel him from your life. You hadn't even tried the last time, just left everything where it was like a relic of a passed life.
"True," he agreed, going back to picking vegetables.
"Do you want to tell James and Lily that we're seeing each other again?" You asked, taking up the basket as he tossed a couple cucumbers in.
"Do you want to be seeing each other?" He replied. It was a foolish insecurity to have, especially for someone who had never experienced much insecurity in previous relationships (though he didn't really have many substantial relationships he could recall off the top of his head), but sometimes he thought that perhaps you were just bidding your time with him.
You looked almost confused, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at him, "course. I'd see you all the time if I could."
"Well," Sirius grinned, almost visibly inflating at your words, "who can blame you for that?"
"Alright, let's get inside before your head gets too big to fit through the kitchen door," you teased, grabbing the sleeve of his shirt and tugging gently so that he would follow you.
Walking back into the kitchen was like breaking a spell, James was taking the basket from your hands and asking if the two of you wanted some wine from a bottle that "a neighbor gave us last week, not sure exactly where they got it, or if they made it themselves, Lily was convinced that they poisoned it but I said that was silly,".
"Poisoned?" Sirius asked, taking the green glass bottle and uncorking it. He leaned over the bottle and sniffed as if he'd detect whether it was foul or not. "Doesn't smell poisoned."
"Oh can you smell the poison?" You laughed, grabbing a knife from the block on the counter and laying out the vegetables.
"I have an excellent sniffer, I'll have you know," he argued, "though I will say it's a bit easier to sus out a poison in my furrier form."
"Do not transform yourself into a dog in my kitchen Sirius," Lily snapped, "you never want to put your clothes back on."
"That's got nothing to do with the dog," you commented and James laughed.
"Didn't realize I'd been invited to dinner just to endure all this abuse." Sirius grumbled though there was a smile threatening to break across his face, letting you know that he wasn't nearly as upset as he was playing at.
You sat beside Sirius for dinner, Lily sending you suggestive looks whenever she thought he was too engrossed in conversation with James to notice (though you knew Sirius better than most and were sure that he had most definitely noticed). Dinner at Lily and James' was like always, fun and lighthearted, conversation steering away from anything too troubling (no talk of the coming darkness) until you were all a little more than tipsy and you'd taken to openly leaning against Sirius when the party moved to the living room.
He was first to take his leave, though he announced that you were going with him, "think we'd best get home, this one's got work in the morning," were his exact words and the way he said 'home' as if it belonged to both of you made your wine drunk heart skip a beat. You were warm from the alcohol and the fire and hugs goodbye but you still managed to wrap yourself in Sirius' arms as you walked down the sidewalk in Godric's.
"You know, I think it would be quite nice to have a little flat somewhere, we could decorate it together and have all our friends round for dinner parties and we could go all over the world on holidays." You suggested, the grey of his eyes especially haunting as he measured your words.
"Sounds lovely," he agreed, though whether that was because it did sound lovely or because he was placating you, even he wasn't positive.
You both went home and the spell of Godric's Hollow was lifted and when the envelope arrived by owl a week later, Sirius was gone again. Back to his shared flat with Remus and you were back to pretending all the pieces of him that he'd left behind didn't hurt. Remus had assured you, when you'd blubbered rather unattractively over the phone with him two days after things turned sour, that it was just the way things worked between the two of you ("eventually one of you, or both of you, god willing, will mature enough to commit to the relationship you both so desperately crave"). The advice was not what you wanted to hear, to no one's surprise, and you resigned yourself instead to the knowledge that you would not have to see Sirius until the wedding, or rehearsal dinner or whatever Lily had planned. You could stay in the flat in Cambridge that was once again, only yours, and Sirius could go about his own life doing whatever it was that he did when you were taking time away from each other.
By your own determination and Lily's unwavering devotion to you as a friend, there were no run-ins until the rehearsal dinner, which Sirius was late to. He arrived looking somewhat frazzled, on a flying motorcycle of all things, and apologizing profusely to Lily and James for his tardiness. You were standing with Remus, who'd been tasked with walking beside you until Sirius arrived, watching him greet the jovial couple.
"My mum told me that if I would only stop fooling around with Sirius I might find some nice bloke and settle down," you whispered to Remus when he nudged you gently with his elbow.
"That sounds very uncharacteristic for you," he replied, "do you plan on taking her advice?"
"Unfortunately, for myself and for her, I really don't," you finally tore your gaze away from your sometimes companion (just as he looked your way) to meet Remus' amused gaze, "I always think I will but then he shows up somewhere and I know I won't."
"Remus, I see you've taken your rightful place as best man," Sirius teased, wedging himself into the nonexistent space between the two of you. If it wasn't so obvious that you and Remus harbored no feelings for each other, someone might have supposed that Sirius was jealous of his friend receiving your attention.
"I already told James I didn't want it when he asked me first," Remus joked, moving over a step to accommodate his friend.
"Did you really?" Sirius called, looking around the small crowd for James and then settling on him, "you asked Remus first?"
"Second best again Padfoot," you teased.
He looked at you with mild surprise before gasping dramatically and clutching at his chest, "my best friends...all this time and it seems all of my best friends prefer Remus over me?"
"Sorry mate," Remus laughed, clapping a hand on Sirius shoulder.
He waved him away, "it's alright there Moony, I would probably choose you too."
"I was only teasing anyway Sirius," he promised.
Lily managed to reign the boys in again, one more walk down the aisle with the correct partners, as she so explained, already walking to her place at the end of the pews. She had on a short white dress with a lace overlay that made her look like something out of a magazine. The absolute picture of beauty with her long ginger hair and bright green eyes. You were almost envious as you watched the way James watched his soon to be bride smiling at him from the other side of the small church. But then you moved your gaze down the row of gathered groomsmen, not having to go very far to find Sirius stood beside James, watching you the same way his best friend watched Lily.
You held his gaze the whole way down the aisle and you thought that your resolution not to let him back into your life would be all for naught. You'd be surprised if he didn't come home with you tonight.
"I heard he's been out recently," Dorcas whispered, disrupting your dreamlike fantasy and you turned your head, drowning out Lily and James rehearsal vows so that you could hear your friend's gossip better.
"Who with?"
"I didn't get specifics, Marlene knows though. She's the one that told me." She replied.
"Yeah well, she's the one he was out with last time." You replied.
"You act like it doesn't bother you."
You shrugged at the suggestion, "I've been out to."
When you turned back, in time to follow the fake married couple down the aisle, Sirius was extending his arm and staring at you with mild interest. The sort that said he wanted to know what it was you were talking about because of course he had noticed you talking to Dorcas. You only offered a smile though, letting him lead the both of you down to the back of the church where Lily was slipping her feet out of her heels.
"These blasted shoes, I tried to charm them to be comfortable and it's just been rubbish." She complained, bending to pick them up.
"Ask Mary, she's good at all those nonsensical charms," you offered, ignoring the look Sirius was still giving you. He was standing so close he was hovering and when you continued to ignore him in favor of saying goodbye to Peter and Dorcas, he pinched at your sides. "Would you stop it?"
"Would you pay attention to me?"
"I pay plenty of attention to you, if I paid you anymore I would go broke," you huffed, turning to look at him. The pinching stopped and he placed his hands on your waist instead, keeping you close enough that he could whisper and no one would overhear the conversation.
"What did Dorcas say?"
"About what?"
"About...you know what." He replied.
"Ah," you smiled, "about you sleeping around?"
"I'm not sleeping around! Is that what she said? A date or two but not sleeping around, god." He huffed, seeming personally offended by Dorcas' comment.
"Oh stop, I told her it wasn't a bother to me." You replied, "besides, I imagine I know where you'll be sleeping tonight."
Sirius grinned, "is that an invitation?"
You nodded, looking over his shoulder to the front of the church, already decorated for the wedding tomorrow morning. "Maybe we should get married?"
"Would you like that?" He asked, pinching at your side once more.
"Stop it!" You laughed and swatted away his hands, "and to answer your question, I wouldn't mind it one bit. Though I'm opposed to taking your last name only, perhaps a hyphen?"
"Oh god, how about I take yours instead?" He suggested, "forget Black altogether."
You nodded, "we could have our own little flat?"
"Go on lots of holidays." He replied.
"Oh but I'd feel awful leaving Remus alone in your old place," you pointed out, envisioning a very sad Remus home alone.
"I really wouldn't mind," the actual one cut in, having overheard his name in the conversation.
"Nonsense Moony, they could move into ours."
"I don't actually like your flat though Sirius," you replied.
"How could you not like it?"
"Are you three coming?" James called, looking over at your small party. "We're heading out for drinks."
Sirius took your hand, "we shall discuss the logistics later," he promised, pulling you toward the exit of the church where Remus had already joined James and Lily.
"I look forward to it."
#sirius black x reader#sirius x reader#sirius black imagine#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fluff#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#sirius black one shot#marauders era fanfic#marauders fanfic#marauders era imagine#marauders era fic#marauders imagine#collecting stories imagine
128 notes
·
View notes
Note
you got any orv fic recs 🙏🏼
BOY I sure do. This list is going to be pretty long, so I'll put it below the cut.
Mei's ORV Fic Reccs
Spoilers for ORV until the epilogue!
Post-Epilogue by the1864
GEN, yoohankim if you squint. This one is one of my favorite ORV fics at the moment so it's going first in this list! It picks up right where 551 leaves off, and every single character is written absurdly well, especially the main trio! Great if you're looking for KDJ recovery stuff.
Rendezvous by WindsofTime
Joongdok. A reimagining of select scenes from ORV, if KDJ and YJH made more use of Midday Tryst, told from YJH's point of view. A tiny bit different from canon, but not enough to call it canon divergence. The babygirl YJH fic ever. Op GETS him.
The False Last Act by younglegends
GEN. If you read any fic on this list, please read this one. I can't say anything about it without spoiling parts of it, and I really don't want to do that. Extremely well executed. Lovely, comforting, and will make your stomach flip like you've stared too long into the abyss. Read this fic TWICE. Read it TWO (2) TIMES.
My Cooking was Always Better with You (Now if only you would eat it) by pave_ment
GEN, joongdok if you squint. For those who lament over the fact that we never got to see any scenes from YJH's 81st regression cooking adventure I present to you: Dungeon Meshi AU, ft. chimera KDJ and bratty chef adventurer YJH. Enjoy!
Tell Me I Did Good Until Now by featherx
GEN. with a little sangsoo on the side. KDJ returns post epilogue, but stays a child in body and mind. This one had me reeling for the whole week when I read it. Sweet and melancholy. I especially loved YJH being bullied by children. KDJ is really, profoundly loved in this one.
An Incomplete Record of Correspondence Between The Magnificent, Unbiased, Genius Author Han Su-yeong and The Jackass Who Dares to Edit Her Work by Dragonomatopoeia
Joongdok. Yoohan's annoying arguments in the ORV shared google doc. The concept and title alone are too funny to not put on this list.
The Prologue Past the Epilogue by AVoresmith
Yoohankim, though mostly just JD at the moment. Of all the ORV fics I've ever read, I think this fic comes to closest to imitating the actual writing style of ORV along with nailing the characterizations with pinpoint precision. Also contains a JD kiss chapter that is more intense than any actual nsfw scene they could have wrote. There are some caveats to this recommendation though:
It gets slightly NSFW in the latest chapter.
Biyoo is several hundred years old and is treated as an adult, not a kid. There will be mention of Biyoo in relationships with adult partners -- including implied YJH. In my opinion it's handled tactfully, but it's also something that might turn some people off to this fic, so please be aware!
LGY has a big puppy love crush on KDJ. Obviously completely one-sided, but it's there.
Home Invasion by misoriri
GEN. KDJ gets shingles and has to be taken to the doctor. YJH breaks a door and then looms in the kitchen like an evil lamp post. JHW bites a tomato like an apple. LJY gets demolished at Club Penguin Card Jitsu. A short read, but hysterical. KCom is so fucking funny in this.
I saw you in a dream by featherx
GEN, Doksoo if you squint. OD meets the HSY of his new worldline, and can't help feeling like he knows her from another time, another place. Had to lay down after this one. Solid 999 and SP fam content, as well as typical YHK style cosmic unbreakable bonds.
We are A Woven Thread by ksalientian
Yoohankim. A reincarnation AU. I read this one a while back but I found it again recently and it still hits just as hard! The cosmic codependence trio finds themselves trapped in another looping cycle, but as is always the case with them, they always find each other and are okay in the end.
A Short Pause by Je_te_veux
GEN, but can be read as JD. An episode set between 517 and 520, a day in the life of YJH, and having some time to think. JTV is a Chinese writer, and you will need to copy and paste into a translator to read their fics, but genuinely they are one of the best ORV writers I've ever read. This fic is one of the ones I always come back to. Really excellent YJH characterization.
Honey and Ginger by Rivani
Yoohankim. Good old fashioned fluff sickfic! The banter is very well done; the three of them are insufferable <3
Too Many Cooks by SonaSona
Yoohankim. KCom makes dinner. HSY makes herself a nuisance. Sona's prose is incredible, and her characterization of the main trio is impeccable. Light, sweet, with just a touch of the ORV brand melancholy. Yoohan is always funny.
There are more but this post is getting pretty long so! Enjoy 👍
550 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Can Start a Family (Chapter 1)
Summary: During their break from Love on Tour, Mitch and Sarah make a new friend. She's spent years taking care of herself and others, nearly to the point of burnout, and they have plenty of love to share. The couple becomes a trio, and eventually a quartet after Harry finds out the truth about the relationship between Mitch, Sarah, and Y/N.
Hi everyone!! I've had this idea brewing for awhile and finally started writing it. For those who found this in the Harry Styles x Reader tag, I promise he will enter into the story later. Not to give too much away but it will eventually be the 4 of them all together privately but as 2 separate couples publicly.
I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort and all things soft, and am branching out into more spicy territory, so this should me a good mix of both. I hope you enjoy!
(yes the title is from Matilda, it's a found family story, of course the title is from Matilda!)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mitch and Sarah had been touring with Harry for years, and they loved every minute of it. They got to play for wonderful crowds of fans, explore new places, and meet new people while falling ever more in love.
But when Mitch’s mother, Tammy, was diagnosed with cancer and had to undergo a series of surgeries, they immediately made the decision to sit out the Asia and Australia leg of tour to be with family. The doctors were very confident that they would get all of the cancer, but everyone was still nervous.
The first surgery had been a success. There were 2 days in between procedures to give Tammy time to recover. Mitch and Sarah spent plenty of time at the hospital with her to keep her company. They shared stories, played cards, even sang to her when she was dealing with pain.
On the second day post-op Mitch’s father, Mark, went to the hospital early in the day and asked for some time to be alone with his wife. Mitch and Sarah let him know that they would come in the afternoon and bring lunch for everyone. That morning they decided to walk around the neighborhood.
Mark and Tammy had moved into their house two years prior. They had sold Mitch’s childhood home in the center of town to buy a house in a quieter area. It really was a lovely street they lived on, quiet with lots of open land. Even though it was only late-February, the weather that day was mild, making for a very pleasant walk.
The residents of the neighborhood were all very friendly. Everyone Mitch and Sarah walked past shared a greeting with them which Sarah reciprocated with a cheerful good morning as Mitch politely waved.
When they were almost back at the house, they came across a young woman pushing a stroller. She looked to be in her mid-20s, and they guessed the little boy was roughly 15 months old.
Mitch and Sarah had discussed having children of their own. They always knew that they had a lot of love to share and a desire to care for someone but decided to remain child free. They felt that with their lifestyle they wouldn’t be able to give a little one their full attention.
“Good morning,” the young woman said with a smile and a slightly confused look on her face.
“Good morning,” Sarah replied before turning to the stroller to greet the toddler. As she waved to him, Mitch reached his hand out to the girl to introduce himself. “I’m Mitch, and this is my wife, Sarah.”
“I’m Y/N, I actually recognized you guys. I’m a fan of Harry Styles, and I think you both are really awesome.” Internally, Y/N was freaking out at casually bumping into two of her favorite musicians, but she was determined to remain calm and casual.
“Aw, thank you, that’s so sweet!” Sarah said. “What is your son’s name?”
“His name is Ryan, and he’s actually not mine. I’m the nanny. It’s a common mistake.” It truly was. Every time you were seen in public with Ryan people assumed he was your son. For a 26-year-old who looks so young that you still get carded every time you go to a bar, having a toddler as a companion suddenly ages you in strangers’ eyes.
“You said you’re a Harry fan, is this little one a fan as well?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, he definitely is. He loves music, and every time I put on videos of Harry, he pays close attention. Even when I put on One Direction, he’s most focused when Harry sings.”
“Have you been to any of Harry’s shows?” Mitch asked.
“Yea, I actually went to one of the Chicago shows. It was amazing! I had such a fun time. He puts on a great show, and you guys and the whole band are really talented.”
“What’s your favorite song of Harry’s?” You were about to answer Sarah’s question when Ryan started kicking and yelling.
“I’m sorry, he doesn’t love being in the stroller too long, especially if we’re not moving. I should get him home so he can run around before nap time.”
“Oh of course! It was lovely meeting you Y/N,” Sarah said as Mitch smiled and waved next to her. You waved good-bye and started walking down the driveway to Ryan’s home, noticing Sarah and Mitch walk into the house directly across the street.
Once you got back to the house, your internal freak out finally became an external freak out. “Ryan! That was Mitch and Sarah! We bumped into Mitch Rowland and Sarah Jones, how crazy is that?” Ryan stared at you and you imagined he was thinking that you were the crazy one, freaking out over random people. You continued on with your day, deciding that afternoon to bake cookies for the couple. Ryan was a wonderful helper, pulling every mixing pot and utensil he could find out of the kitchen drawers to scatter all over the floor while watching you do something he’d never seen done before. You talked him through every step of the cookie baking process, thinking that every activity is a new learning adventure for the little guy.
Meanwhile, Mitch and Sarah spent a couple of hours that afternoon visiting Tammy in the hospital. She had been told the first surgery was successful and that they would move onto the next step as planned. She was also feeling better than she thought she would having just had surgery. She knew that it was going to get harder as they did the final two procedures, so she was happy to spend time with family while she was feeling up to it.
Mark had gone home for a little while and came back around 5 in the evening, sending Mitch and Sarah home so he could have dinner with his wife. They said good-bye and let her know they would be back the next morning before her second surgery.
Shortly after, Y/N finished her workday and went to drop off the cookies on her way home. She knocked on the door and a moment later Sarah answered.
“Hi! Ryan and I baked cookies today and wanted to share with you and Mitch.”
“Thank you so much! Are these snickerdoodles? Those are my favorite!”
“Yes, they’re mine too! I used my grandmother’s recipe. We used to bake them together for like, every holiday.”
Mitch walked into the entryway as you finished speaking. Sarah handed him the container saying “Look, Y/N baked us cookies. Isn’t that sweet?”
He smiled softly saying, “Thanks. Can I actually ask a favor?”
You nodded, having no idea what he would say next.
“Can you not post online about us being here? We’re here for a family matter and don’t really want anyone to know about it. Or know where we are.”
“Oh of course! I would never share where you all are. I don’t really post online at all anyway. My Tik Tok and Instagram are pretty much just of my cats.” You forced yourself to stop talking before you made your life sound incredibly sad. Because truthfully, you felt it kind of was. You had barely any friends in the area or living family members. Aside from going to work, you didn’t get out much. You spent most weekends at home with your cats reading or bingeing the same TV shows over and over again. But no one needed to know that.
“Thanks, we really appreciate it. It can be hard to have privacy sometimes and right now being home with family we really need it.”
“If there’s anything else you need just let me know! I’m right across the street most of the time and my apartment is only a few minutes from here. Have a great night you two!” They said good-bye and you got back in your car before you could say anything to make a fool of yourself. You felt you had done well so far, but you were secretly fangirling and were afraid that it was only a matter of time before something crazy slipped out of your mouth.
You hadn’t lied when you said you never posted on social media. There was no way you were spreading personal information over the internet, especially personal information about someone else. However, it was difficult to not immediately call up your best friend and tell her who you had met. You were just so excited to have interacted with Mitch and Sarah. You had been a huge fan of theirs for so long. There wasn’t much about them online, just short snippets from concerts and interviews here and there. It was hard to guess how they would be in real life, but so far, they seemed like sweet, down to earth people.
When you got back to your apartment you took a quick shower, had dinner, and decided to read some of your book. You were nervous that if you touched your phone, you’d call your friend, so you ended up going to bed quite early to avoid temptation. You fell asleep thinking back on the interactions of the day, happier than you had felt in a long time.
What you didn’t realize is that you had made an impact on Mitch and Sarah as well. After you left, they sat down to have dinner together and you became a topic of conversation.
“She seems sweet,” Sarah said.
“Yea. And calm.”
“I didn’t even guess she was a fan and recognized us at first, she was so casual.”
“Well, you were also distracted by the baby. You missed the barely contained panic on her face when we first said hi.”
“Ah so that’s why you introduced yourself. It did seem out of character for you to strike up the conversation.”
“I’m not completely socially inept Sarah, I can talk to people when I want to. I just don’t always want to.”
“I know that. I was just curious about what you saw in her that made you want to talk to her. Thought maybe it had something to do with that conversation we had a couple weeks ago. I know I thought back to it when she stopped by with the cookies. She is rather pretty.”
Mitch put down his fork and just stared at his wife for a moment. He knew exactly which conversation she was bringing up. One they had after Harry’s birthday party post Palm Springs night 2. After Harry’s birthday show the whole band and crew went to a club that had been reserved for their group. While Harry generally liked a more laid-back birthday dinner, he figured since it was also the end of the US leg of tour, they all deserved to go a little wild.
On top of their normal entourage there were a fair number of people in attendance that Mitch and Sarah didn’t recognize but assumed either knew Harry or were somehow connected through their networks. Well into the night, when everyone was feeling rather loose thanks to the alcohol in their systems, a young woman came up to the married couple. She introduced herself as Colleen, and let them know that if they were interested, she would be more than happy to please them both. They were startled by how forward she was, and immediately, but politely, turned her down. Once she walked away, they shared a surprised look.
After getting back to their hotel, Sarah brought up the interaction suddenly while getting ready for bed. “Maybe we should’ve said yes.”
“Said yes to what?” Mitch asked, slipping out of his jeans and throwing them on top of his shirt that was already piled on the floor.
“Said yes to that girl.”
“What girl?” Drunk Mitch wasn’t always the best at paying attention enough to store conversations in his memory.
“Colleen. You know, the one who offered the three way.”
“Oh.” Mitch joined his wife in the bathroom so he could see her while they had this conversation. “Is that something that you would want?”
“Maybe? I don’t know. Obviously, it’s not something I need. You keep me more than satisfied, so this isn’t about anything being missing. But you know I’ve always been interested in experimenting with a girl.”
“I still can’t believe you spent years touring with bands and never once hooked up with a girl.”
“Yes well, I was focused on work at the time. It just didn’t seem all that important.”
“But now you’re interested in the possibility again?”
“Part of me feels like I want to have that experience, even just once. I mean I know you’ve experimented with boys. You and Harry had your fling in Jamaica.” Mitch smiled thinking back to the writing trip they took when working on the first album, before the touring band had been brought together and he met Sarah.
“Alright. Maybe we’ll meet someone who’s a good fit for us to branch out a little and have some fun. But right now, I am drunk and exhausted so let’s get some sleep and talk about this again when we’re more coherent.”
They didn’t talk about it the next morning as they dealt with their hangovers, nor did it come up in the following weeks. Not until Sarah casually mentioned it at Mitch’s parents’ kitchen table on a random Wednesday in February. Just as Mitch was about to reply his father walked in, effectively cutting off the conversation. But now it was on top of both their minds, surely not to be forgotten for weeks once again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Chapter 2 is posted here!
If there are any specific scenarios you want to see with this dynamic let me know and I'll try to work them in! I might do some blurbs outside of the main story as well.
Hope you enjoyed, and I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback!! (or if you find a typo, feel free to point it out!)
#sarah jones x reader#mitch rowland x reader#harry styles x reader#mitch rowland x sarah jones#mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader#sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader#mitch rowland x harry styles
231 notes
·
View notes
Note
In your opinion what makes a good Isekai?
To further the question what makes a good overpowered Isekai?
There no one thing that makes a good story in any genre. It depends what the story is trying to do.
For example, lots of Stupidly Overpowered Protagonist isekai suck because they try to draw their narrative tension from battles, and the stupidly overpowered protagonist completely undercuts any sense of peril. Reincarnated As A Slime is one of my personal bugbears on that front.
Bofuri, on the other hand, cheerfully overpowers Maple in the dumbest ways because it doesn't need her to be vulnerable in combat. It's an anime about cute girls hanging out in a video game and being friends, its drama is social rather than action based, it actively does not WANT to have tension. It's a chill hangout session, and having Maple be OP as hell supports that concept by sapping all tension from combat scenarios.
There's been a bunch of Slow Life style isekai doing the same kinda thing, and it makes the OP protagonist way more fun than your SAO knockoffs, or that horrid trash genre of revenge porn fantasies like Redo of Healer or Shield Hero.
The OP protagonist is a power fantasy, so what matters is what that power fantasy is used for. In Bofuri it's "being the social binding joint for a group of friends doing activities together."
In Reincarnated As A Slime and many other bad isekai of its kind it is "be the coolest most great dude who's great at everything and everyone thinks he's cool and wants to bang him because he's inherently better," which to me is just tedious ego masturbation. I can't find any joy in it.
I really like Campfire Cooking In Another World With My Absurd Skill, whose OP protagonist fantasy is "cooking really nice meals for people and making them happy," and I did enjoy the low stakes lesbian-coded family building of I've Been Killing Slimes For 300 Years And Maxed Out My Level (I hate the titling convention so much though).
To return to your question, what makes isekai good are the same things that make anything good: interesting characters, compelling plot, strong themes etc. But one of the common isekai pitfalls is using genre tropes that actively undercut the tension of the story structure. Like an OP protagonist who makes all battle tension meaningless in a story that draws its narrative tension exclusively from battles.
(side note: I have deeply fallen for the Reincarnated As A Villainess In An Otome Game subgenre, so readers, recommend me good ones if you have them!)
232 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
yas4-i
ハロプロ日記
alzhamm444
Untitled
enby-peep
murder is okay sometimes actually 💛
resplayhouse
Cabre
lycorogue
Inside
the Tree Trunk