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bookshelf-dust · 18 hours

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you have hearts for eyes

sirius black x fem!reader

word count: 5,451

warnings: minimal swearing, kind of modern!au, reader has insecurities about being inexperienced, very slight suggestive material, fluff/comfort

a/n: hello! i’ve been working on this fic for what feels like forever, and i am so happy to be done with it and to share it with you. i know my audience for sirius is a bit smaller, but i’m hoping some of you will appreciate and enjoy it and maybe find something in it. it means a lot to me and writing it definitely helped me work through some of my own struggles. please let me know what you think!! i love you so much. happy reading <333

————

Sirius’ apartment is really quite sweet. The walls are dark and draped with tapestries, ones you would never know where to find. Someplace you’re unfamiliar with, surely.

Of course you know it wouldn’t be nearly this nice without all of Remus’ help. Sirius thinks choosing to live across the hall from one another was the best decision they ever made. He had wanted to share a place with both Remus and James, but that was before Lily snatched him away.

The couch is a deep wine color, the cushions bearing imprints from all the hands and backs and bottoms that have embraced them. He’s cracked the living room windows open, allowing the spring air to seep in.

He’s been pacing back and forth from the window where he’d be able to see your car pull up, and looking out the peephole on his front door. He pulls it open just as you’ve raised your hand to knock (despite having a key), making you jump. A boyish grin spreads across his face as he drags his eyes down your figure.

“Well, Christ, don’t you look gorgeous.”

You feel the tips of your ears burn. One of your hands flies to rest on your lower belly. You put on a dress today; a lovely, long sundress you purchased in a short-lived moment of bravery, one you’ve never worn around him. Actually, you’ve never worn a dress around Sirius, period. Skirts, sure. But he has never seen you in something like this.

“Oh, quit that,” you mutter, dipping under his arm to enter his home.

He turns around to watch you walk in as he pushes the door shut. “I will not.” He takes your bag from your shoulder, setting it on a stool just under the kitchen island. “Do a spin for me, love. That color looks so perfect on you.”

You oblige, letting yourself have this one moment where you lean into his flirting. His eyes follow the curve of your waist, the dress hugging it so gently where you’ve tied the strings around your back. The way the fabric drapes down your spine and is light enough that he can see each move you make, each effortless shift of your limbs. He has to be careful not to let his jaw fall open.

You complete your turn, stomach flipping at the look on his face. You scramble for something to say, to hide the way he’s flustered you.

“Okay, okay. No need to pretend to ogle anymore. All I did was put on regular people clothes.”

Sirius’ brows knit together. Pretend? Do you think he’s doing this just to flatter you? Just because he’s a naturally flirty man? He wants to toss you over his shoulder and show you how perfect you are. He crosses his arms.

“No pretending here, love. You do look stunning in that little number and I feel blessed that you have graced me with your presence while wearing it.” He shoots a wink in your direction.

You run a hand over your collarbone and twist to plant yourself on his couch. He follows you, tucking himself into your side, his thigh pressed to yours. You can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re terrible at taking compliments, you know that?” He gingerly takes your hand away from where it’s scratching at your neck and keeps it in his, subconsciously tracing the lines embedded in your palm.

Your eyes fall on his fingers, watching the way his rings glint in the fading sunlight. “I did know that, yes.”

“Give me a compliment then,” he says, attempting to display how one can accept a compliment. Part of him knows he’ll go red once you give him that attention.

You look at him, your mind swirling with every sweet thing you’ve ever wanted to say to him but kept to yourself because all this flirting doesn’t leave you as easily as it does him.

“Your hair looks very pretty,” you let out, softly. A smile wide enough to expose his dimples spreads across his face.

“Does it?” He gives his head a shake, the dog-like movement making you laugh. “I haven’t brushed it today.”

You tuck a strand behind his ear. “Would you like me to do it for you? I could braid it for you after so it won’t get tangled tonight.”

That gesture comes from you so naturally that it makes Sirius swoon. You want to do that simply for his convenience and because it might make things a bit better on him. And he’ll be damned if the thought of your fingers touching his scalp and your nails on his neck doesn’t sound like the best thing since…well he hasn’t got a reference for that. But you’re often so shy when it comes to physical affection, and this just might make his entire life.

This pool of thoughts must be showing on his face, because you suddenly look very flustered. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had hearts in his eyes to replace his pupils.

“I’d love it if you did. You really don’t mind?” he asks, already shifting to sit on the floor in front of you, trying not to make you feel too nervous because he knows you’re branching out just based on your actions since you arrived.

“Nope. I love to braid hair,” you say, feeling a chill run down your spine seeing him settled between your legs like this, feeling the warmth of him through your dress and being able to really look at him—even if it’s just the backside of him—without feeling so shy.

Sirius grins to himself. He’s realized that you do keep a lot of things to yourself, and though he likes to think he’s cracked away at a bit of your shell in the time he’s known you, there is still so much he doesn’t know.

“Did you know that Remus can braid?” he asks you, closing his eyes at the feel of your pinky fingernail parting his hair down the middle.

You giggle. He could get drunk off that sound, and he knows so. It leaves him dazed. “Can he?”

“Apparently so. His mum taught him and used to have him do her hair because he was better at it than she was.”

“Well, that’s sweet. I should have him do mine. Test his skills. How’d you find out he could do it?”

Sirius lets out a breath of a laugh, “He did mine for a Quidditch match once. Mcgonagall used to fuss that I’d rip all my hair out if I didn’t contain it.”

You’re braiding his hair very slowly, much slower than you’d do yours or anyone else’s. His hair is so soft, and much thicker than you had realized. It’s got a wave to it, one you think you would be a bit more defined if he put some product in it. You’re enjoying the feel of it in your hands, the heat of his scalp against your skin.

You’re losing yourself in it so much that you almost miss his words.

“I bet you guys had a lot of fun playing together,” you say, knowing that kind of bond must be one of the best things in the world. You tuck the strands of hair at the base of his neck in so they don’t droop when you’re finished.

Sirius wraps a hand around your ankle, and your eyes widen.

“I wish we’d been friends then,” he tells you. Your nervous system is sent into overdrive, trying to adapt to such a casually intimate touch and the fact that he’s dwelling on the past.

You tie off the end of one braid and start on the other. You exhale through your nose. “I don’t think we could’ve been.”

Sirius’ eyes open at this. He fights the urge to spin around and face you, but knows you’re concentrating, and he has the feeling that not staring at you directly is why you’re suddenly being so open with him.

“Why?” he asks. Why couldn’t you have been? He’s always been friendly. Sure, he was much more rowdy in school, but he never would’ve tried to intimidate you.

“We ran in different circles, you know? I certainly knew who you and the boys were, but everyone did.” Sirius’ brows furrow as he listens more intently than he knew he was capable of. “Though no one really knew who I was, except for my professors, of course. I was even more shy and reserved then, if you can believe that. I never really fit in, and I never found my people.”

“I sort of just…observed everyone. I did my best in class and tried to be social, but nothing ever stuck. I think there’s only one person I keep in touch with from Herbology. I learned at some point that I was going to be alone, and I might as well make the best of it.”

“So I guess what I’m saying is that we couldn’t have been because I’m not sure you ever would’ve seen me.”

The silence that follows your last few words is deafening, and all you hear is the sound of your blood rushing in your ears and your nails scratching against his hair as you finish the other braid.

When he feels the tie rest against his neck, he forces the words up from where they’ve been sitting in his throat. “Love, I…”

He turns around so quickly you think he might’ve given himself whiplash. He’s giving you puppy dog eyes, and you hate that he’s feeling sappy over you and your pitiful school experience—or lack thereof.

“Weren’t you lonely?” he questions, resting his hands on your knees.

You start to fidget with one of your rings. “Of course I was. I know for lots being at Hogwarts are some of the best years of your life. But mine were very hard. I was extremely lonely, but I just learned how to be my own friend and do things that made me happy.”

“Plus I made great relationships with the professors, which helped me in getting a real job. And if that hadn’t happened…I’d never have really met you. Don’t feel bad for me, okay? It’s no big deal.”

Your words are followed by a poignant pause.

So much starts to click for Sirius, and all it does is break his heart. You give him a shy smile, and fuck, you’re absolutely right. He can’t remember what you looked like then, doesn’t remember seeing you in any of his courses. And he knows you’re a badass, but thinking about how he always had a circle, people he’d trust with his life and go to when he needed them, compared to how you were completely alone…that hurts. You deserve to be loved, praised, shown off to the world. You’re only a bit more outgoing now, and he knows much of that is owed to him and James. Remus is your introverted confidant.

Sirius stands up and moves to sit next to you on the couch.

“How could I not feel bad for you? Love, you’ve grown so accustomed to being alone that you don’t think it’s a big deal—not having a circle. You’ve accepted it, and I hate that you have felt so alone for so long.”

“Sirius, really, it’s—”

“Can I ask you something?” He blurts out the words, causing you to blink a bit.

“You just did.”

“Please?”

“Yes.”

“Have you ever had a boyfriend?”

Oh. That’s not where you were expecting this conversation to go. And this is one of the most embarrassing things to talk about. Especially with him, because you know he’s experienced. You’ve heard the stories.

Sirius takes your silence as encouragement to continue, scrambling to explain why he’d ask this.

“Obviously you’ve been around us, you know James and Lily and—whatever, you know. And we sometimes talk about relationships or escapades and you always retreat when that happens. Is that…is that why?”

You swallow, ignoring the slight pressure behind your eyes. Fuck, this is embarrassing. Especially at your age, and knowing you’re behind everyone you know. It is hard to hear them talk about relationships or hookups. Most definitely when it’s Sirius.

“No. I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

Sirius blinks. He can’t understand how any guy could look at you and not want you all to themselves. That’s what he wants.

“I’ve never even held hands romantically, Sirius. Isn’t that pathetic?” You feel the need to make sure he knows you realize how pitiful it truly is.

Alarm bells ring in his head.

“Darling, no. It’s not pathetic.” He searches your face, noticing the way you’re retreating from him. “Look at me, please?” He tracks your smile lines, each freckle or mark on your skin until you meet his eyes. His own brighten at your willingness to listen. “There she is.”

Something about those words shoot straight to your stomach, butterflies smacking against your insides, begging to be let out.

“Why do you think that’s pathetic, love?” He’s asking you seriously. That bitter voice, the one you’ve shoved deep inside the back of your mind, claws its way forward. It must be easy to think it’s not pathetic when you’re so experienced. Because you haven’t met the ache that comes from lacking what others have. You shake your head.

“Because it is, Sirius.” He opens his mouth, but figures this isn’t the time to bicker. His jaw falls shut just as quickly. “I am twenty-two years old, and I have never had any romantic interactions, despite the fact that I have been desperate for one for years.” He knows you’re really letting your emotions fly when you begin to talk with your hands.

“It is so gut-wrenching sometimes to see people be so happy in their relationships. It’s hard for me to listen to our discussions when they delve into each of your experiences, because it tugs on my insecurities, and I try my best to hide it, but it does hurt.”

“Truthfully, I’m at a point where not only am I ashamed of all of this, but I’m afraid that a kiss, or a hug, or anything—that I just won’t feel anything. That maybe I will never understand what affection or love feels like and it’ll always be something I imagine. And my imagination only goes so far. There’s such a disconnect, and I can’t feel those things.”

You rub at your temples. “So that’s why. I’m behind everyone else my age, and I wish I wasn’t.”

That little bit of anger you’ve worked so hard to suppress bubbles up in your chest. You worry he’ll say something that pushes it out, that he’ll give you that same spiel everyone else does—

“I could try and help you with your romantic interactions.”

Your breath catches. Sirius’ gray eyes bore into yours.

“But I’ll have you know,” he continues, “that I understand how you think you’re behind, especially with the stupid shit we talk about, and I don’t think it matters. You’re on a different path than I’ve been, but it’s not as though you’ll never do those things. Frankly, I can’t see why no one’s jumped your bones to date.”

Your nervous system feels so confused. At once you’re fighting that bout of frustration, and feeling your heart pick up at the idea of this actually being a possibility.

“Did I braid your hair too tight?” you mutter.

Sirius laughs, tossing his head back to reveal a glorious neck. “No, love.” He places a hand on your knee. “Now, be genuine when you answer this for me, alright?” He waits for your nod and then leans in close enough that you can feel his breath on your collar bones.

“Is it really that difficult to see how enamored I am with you?”

Huh?

Sirius laughs again. Shit, did you say that out loud?

“You did say that out loud.”

You slap your hand over your mouth. “I’m sorry,” you rush out, “that was supposed to stay in my head.” But all of the small things he’s done, all of the romantic things—cooking you dinner, helping you zip your dresses, buying you jewelry, even just making you feel seen—come rushing to the forefront of your mind. Perhaps you didn’t want to believe it. Or maybe you couldn’t believe someone would feel romantically about you and decided to block out any of his loving gestures.

He’s staring straight into your eyes, and it’s like he’s cast a spell on you, because you feel like you could spill your guts right then and there. And maybe it’s best you do.

“I think maybe I’ve just convinced myself you’re sweet to everyone? That you’re a loverboy at heart and so it hasn’t meant anything more for you to be sweet to me.”

“Sweet on you,” he says.

You blink.

“I am sweet on you, love. While I won’t deny that I am a flirt at heart and do my best to charm most anyone, I have dedicated my time to you as of late. Truth be told, I'd quite like to be your loverboy.” He pauses, looking over your face, a grin spreading across his. “But I suppose your inexperience explains why you’ve been so oblivious.” He’s made himself laugh now.

You lean forward and smack him on the bicep, and even though it is a firm hit, there’s no malice in it, especially with that smile on your face. He’s not wrong at all—you have been oblivious.

Sirius falls back dramatically onto the couch, feigning severe pain. “Fuck, you’ve wounded me.”

You roll your eyes, watching how he clutches his arm and gasps for air. His braids are splayed out, his cheeks a shade of rosy pink. He looks so…gorgeous. You’re in awe of him. It’s like when you stare at the statue of David, just completely entranced by how beautiful this man made of marble is. That’s how looking at Sirius feels. Taking in something so soft and knowing it should be handled with care.

You hold out your hands, wiggling your fingers. “Alright, come on. You’ll recover.”

Sirius grabs hold of you, allowing you to hoist him up. When you do, you could easily touch noses. There’s a new tension in the room, one you’re sure anyone would be able to feel if there were more people there.

You look down when you realize Sirius hasn’t let go of your hands. “So, what do you say?” he asks, bringing your attention back to his face.

Say something, you tell yourself. You’re just staring at each other, and you’ve got to speak. Your heart is pounding, rattling your rib cage. You want to have all of these experiences, you really do, but it’s also so terrifying to think about the vulnerability that comes with them. Though…it’s Sirius. And if you’re being truly honest, you’ve always wished it’d be him. That he’d look at you…the way he is now.

“I—I’d really like that. If you’d really like to deal with my clumsiness and all.” You give him a shy smile, and suddenly he’s threading his fingers with yours. He raises his hands, forcing you to do the same. Your fingers are intertwined, his hand engulfing yours, which is undoubtedly much smaller.

You’re holding hands.

“Look, love. Now you’ve held hands romantically.” He laughs a little at the look on your face, one he’s sure is a result of the awe you’re in. You’ve never done this before. It feels so nice to have his hands in yours. They’re so warm, and sparks are shooting up your wrists. You feel giddy.

You bite your lip in an effort to suppress the excitement that is practically begging to come out. He sees it though. “Is this making you happy, darling?” he asks. You nod enthusiastically, your ears burning. “Perfect. And about what you said, I did warn you that I was head over heels for you, so I might be so weak in the knees that I’ll be clumsy too.” He winks.

You squeeze his fingers experimentally. A little nervously. “You’re sure you want to do all this with me?”

Sirius squeezes back, his thumbs rubbing over your skin. “Of course I am. You trust me, don’t you?” He already knows the answer to that, but how could he not make sure that you feel safe with him?

“Always,” you say.

“Good.” He glances down at your clasped fingers. “Wanna keep holding hands? It’s rather nice, isn’t it?”

You giggle, and he swears his insides turn to jelly at how sweet the sound is. “I think I’ve been spoiled now,” you say. “I might always want to hold your hands.”

Sirius presses a gentle kiss to your knuckle, locking eyes with you as he does it. Your heart kicks against your throat, your chest aching with the lack of air you’re getting.

“You think you’re spoiled now? Best prepare yourself then, love.”

————

Sirius was right.

And that was confirmed when he gave you your first real hug. Not the quick hug you give your grandmother or your friend on the way out the door. But one of those hugs you’ve always seen in muggle romantic comedies or read about in your novels. The kind of hug you’ve never been able to fully wrap your mind around, but have imagined more than is healthy. When you lay in bed at night, clutching your teddy bear and wishing you could feel someone with you.

He gave you your first romantic hug. And you’ve requested one each time he’s available.

The request came after dinner one night, when he was watching you diligently scoop ice cream into a cone for him. Because you wanted to. Sirius hated to boost his own ego, but he had to admit that the way you had changed since furthering your relationship with him had you glowing. It’s not that you weren’t happy before, because you were, but this is different. It’s like he’s unlocked this vault inside of you, one where you’ve stored all this love and kindness, and he gets to experience it.

He’s never seen you so…free.

You’d set the ice cream cone down on the counter for him. “Ta-da,” you said, sticking the spoon back in the container and waiting for him to pick his toppings. He did so, admiring how you’d chosen things you knew he liked, how you were so giddy just from this moment. Your hair was a mess and you were wiping the stickiness from your fingers and he was so overwhelmed by you.

“Sweetheart?” He’d asked, eyeing you as you did a happy little wiggle when you took a bite of the cheesecake ice cream you’d found earlier in the week. Your eyes found his, all doe-like, and your nose wrinkled because of how the pet name flustered you.

He’d been trying those out too, and while getting you to do the same had been slow-going because of your nerves, you loved when he used them for you.

You’d put down your spoon and hummed. “Yeah?”

He stepped closer to you. “Can I hug you, love?”

Your breath had caught, and at the same time that you were feeling immensely nervous and flustered, you were so excited. So excited to be hugged properly and by someone you were over the moon for.

“Please?”

You smiled and he laughed boyishly, moving in until your chests were almost touching. Your pulse hammered against your wrist.

Sirius bent slightly, allowing you to rise up on your toes. He wrapped his arms around your waist, locking them snuggly against your back. Yours went around his neck, squeezing his shoulders. The entirety of his front pressed to yours, and he was so warm.

Your fingers tentatively moved into the hair at the base of his neck, and you tucked your face into his neck, where he immediately felt your smile against his skin.

Suddenly, Sirius had secured his arms tightly around you and lifted you up into the air, hoping to make you laugh. To show how giddy he was feeling. Because in truth, holding you like this, having you be his, filled a void in him he wasn’t even aware of. You were quickly becoming the air he breathed and everything in between.

You kicked your feet and chuckled into his shoulder. He set you back down on the floor, and you hugged him for a bit longer. His were all-embracing, and in his arms, somehow all of your thoughts were immediately shut off, as if this was all the world consisted of. For Sirius, your hug made him feel as though this was the safest place he could ever be, and he knew it would be where he should go when he needed security. And you had this way of getting him to focus, to calm down and be present.

Needless to say, you were both falling for each other. Though it should be mentioned that he’d already started before your relationship furthered, and you had suppressed your heart-eyes for him only because you never thought this kind of feeling was real. That it would be impossible for a boy to treat you this way. You try to let the little girl in you who always hoped for a fairytale romance celebrate every now and then.

There hasn’t been a label put on your relationship, but one night before you got there to hang out with everyone, Sirius calmly told the boys (and girls) that things between you had escalated to more-than-friends. And while they know you, it still felt right to make sure they wouldn’t pester you.

In fact, they were overjoyed to see the both of you act so sweetly towards one another. James whispered in Lily’s ear more than once about how Sirius could not seem to take his eyes off you. Remus helped you in the kitchen and told you how nice it was seeing you so happy. So light. He’d given you a quick hug and wished you the best.

You have never felt so at ease.

Sirius has taken you on a number of dates at this point, some quaint and intimate, some more outgoing. You’ve held hands, hugged. You even got to cuddle with him on the couch.

But you haven’t kissed.

And you want to kiss him, so very bad.

But that is terrifying.

All of your fears revolving that form of affection rush to the surface each time you contemplate when would be best to kiss him, if he wants to kiss you. What if you’re broken and you don’t feel anything? What if there’s no spark? What if, after all this time of hoping kissing would be enjoyable, after craving that intimacy, it just doesn’t work?

Every time you’re around him, all you want is to kiss him. You want that beautiful, sarcastic mouth on yours. You want to know what his plush lips feel like and learn how to kiss properly. You want to fluster him, and you want to be flustered. You want this.

If you asked Sirius, you’d know he wants the same thing. Truthfully, he wants to pin you to the wall and kiss you silly. Until you forget every worry and anything that’s made you sad. Until all you feel is him. He wants to smother your pretty face in kisses. He wants to kiss every inch of you.

Tonight, you’re going to Sirius’ place for a sleepover. And you are going to be brave and kiss him.

————

Your socked feet are in Sirius’ lap, where he’s pushed your pajama pants up your calves so that he can rub his hands across the soft skin there.

Every once in a while, he’ll tickle the underside of your knee just to get you to giggle.

You’ve stopped paying any attention to the movie, and instead are looking at him. The only light in his small living room comes from the television and the array of eclectic lamps scattered around any surface he could fit one on.

It casts shadows on his face, elongating that beautiful nose and the hollows of his cheekbones. His gray eyes look so dark, like storm clouds right before they let out all the rain they’ve been holding in.

“Love?”

Sirius’ voice snaps you and your pounding heart out of your reverie. Your eyes lock with his, and you feel yourself heat up all over. He’s smiling at you.

“Can you tell me what’s happening in the movie?” he asks you, crossing his arms in that oh so cocky way.

Your thumb finds your bottom lip, picking at the skin there and trying to disguise the smile pulling at the corners of your lips. You shake your head, shyly.

He straightens and leans in closer to you. “And why’s that, sweetheart?”

He has a hunch, but he wants you to say what’s on your mind, and you know that’s exactly what he’s waiting for. You know he could sit here all night until you spill your guts.

“‘Cause I’ve been thinking about how bad I wanna kiss you.”

Sirius blushes, but he turns on the charm just as quickly. “Yeah? What’s stopping you?”

He places his hands on your knees. “I’m nervous,” you tell him. “You know I’ll be bad at it, and it might suck because of me, and even if all I want to do is kiss your sweet face, I just…want it to be good.”

He lifts his hand to cup your cheek. “Well, you know if it’s bad, that just means we get to practice.” You snort, and he rests his forehead against yours in an effort to console you and your nerves.

You pull back and put your hands on his chest. It takes everything in you not to grin at how hard his heart is beating, especially with the swell of pride you feel knowing you’re the cause of that.

“I really want to kiss you, Sirius.”

“I really want you to kiss me, darling.”

You inhale, scrunching your nose at him. At this point, you’ve got heart palpitations that are only going to get worse if you don’t act on this.

“Meet me halfway?” you ask, tentatively.

Sirius cups your face, leaning in slightly, but leaving you room to initiate. “Of course,” he breathes.

You take hold of his wrists, fingers trembling. The feeling of his pulse both calms you and makes you sweat.

You move forward, tilting your head to the side a little so you don’t smack noses. You can infer that much, at least. He inches closer each time you do, matching your pace. It almost makes you want to laugh at how slow and careful this is. You could also cry.

When you’re close enough to feel his breath against your lips, you let your eyes close fully, as they’d been helping you find your mark so far. He meets you that last inch, and you are so grateful.

Your lips finally touch in a short, but firm peck. You pull away, smiling, reveling in how soft his lips are.

But now that Sirius has had a little taste of you, he can’t help but want more. He guides you back to him, helping you find a rhythm together. He slots your bottom lip between his, kissing you so brilliantly your brain empties of all thought. You do your best to kiss him back, albeit a little clumsily. He doesn’t seem to mind.

You catch on when he takes turns paying attention to each of your lips, and you try and press all of the passion you feel right back into his.

Every worry you previously had is gone.

You do feel that spark. It feels so magical, so all-encompassing, to be kissed like this. To have Sirius kiss you.

You’re breathless.

When Sirius finally pulls back for air, he presses kisses to your jaw and down your throat. The affection is so close to drawing a whimper from your throat. You know immediately that you could get drunk off of him.

You pull him back up to you by his hair for one more short kiss and he grins boyishly into it.

He starts to laugh.

“Shit,” you start. “If I thought I was spoiled before, I really had no idea what was coming to me.”

Sirius tosses his head back, completely infatuated with you and so fucking gleeful at being yours. Because he is. Yours.

“You’re gonna get sick of me,” you say. “Now I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Oh, love,” Sirius exhales. “What makes you think you’ll have a moment where I’m not the one addicted to you?”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

#savannah’s fics #sirius black #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x female reader #sirius black oneshot #sirius black fic #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fluff #sirius black comfort

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 1 year

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"horror movie characters make unrealistically bad choices" ok but what if it's a couple on the verge of a nasty, nasty divorce? they keep egging each other on to make the worst possible decisions in a time of crisis. there is a whole subplot where each character is trying to escape while ensuing their spouse still gets murdered bc it would save thousands in lawyer fees

#u know that scene where the protagonists are just on the verge of ALMOST escaping but they go back to save the one who was left behind?#so that but the wife goes back *to make certain her husband can't reuse her escape route*#terrible people making terrible decisions i would watch that

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nathaslosthershit · 2 months

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A Much Needed Interview (OP81)

(Part 2 of Teen Dad) Summary: After the shock of Oscar revealing himself to be a former teen dad, he joins an interview in the hopes of clearing everything up and limiting the overwhelming amount of questions he has been getting.

“Oscar, it is nice of you to sit down with us. I know it has been an interesting few weeks for you and your family. How are you guys all doing?” The interviewer asks.

‘Yeah, y’know, I had expected to one day have to open up about it all, but I never thought I’d have to do it the way I did. It has been fine, obviously my kids are young enough to not be impacted because they aren’t on social media, but it has been strange for my fiancée who is now getting hundreds of requests on her private account. I have sort of decided to take a break from social media because the response has been overwhelming and like none before. Mostly positive but I think a few people have gotten the wrong idea so I was hoping to clear everything up.” Oscar rambled. He was more nervous about this interview than any he had done before.

“Of course. Why don’t we start at the beginning, how did you and your fiancée meet?”

“We actually met at one of my races. She went to support one of her close friend’s brothers. After the race that I sadly didn’t do too well in, I saw her with her friend and I was kinda frozen in my spot, immediately head over heels. Sadly, it seems like everyone but her noticed. I was too scared to do anything so I just watched her leave. I think I sulked for days, totally regretting my decision to do nothing. A totally heartbroken 16 year old. I looked for her every single race until she finally came back a few months later.”

“Oh please tell me you finally got the confidence to shoot your shot.”

“Nope! I just stared at her and stuttered when she caught me looking then ran off. I then had an amazing race, I think part of me was just trying to make up for the embarrassment and luckily it seems my car got the memo. After the race she came up to me and asked for my number.” God, he was blushing profusely at the memory. He knew he would be getting slack for this for a very long time.

“Such a story! The young Oscar Piastri was no ladies’ man.”

“He was absolutely not. Soon after we started dating.” Oscar awkwardly laughed, sensing what was about to come up.

“And then kids came shortly after?” The interviewer asked with care in his voice, certainly able to sense Oscar’s change in attitude.

“Yeah. Uh, obviously not planned. I don’t think many people plan to become parent’s at 18. It was a shock… I didn’t handle it the best at first, something I think I will always regret. She was scared and while so was I, I should have been more supportive. I was embarrassed for a while. Felt like a total idiot. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family and made them swear to secrecy. I also began to isolate myself from friends because I couldn’t bring myself to tell them but also felt terrible lying. A few months in I finally snapped myself out of it and began to focus on all the wonderfulness that was to come. I loved her more than anything and I would be lying if I said I hadn’t already imagined a life together in great detail. By the time we found out it was twins, a boy and a girl, I was ecstatic.”

“Well mate, I don’t blame you for your feelings. I definitely would have been a terrible father at 18 so I salute you.” The interviewer joked.

“Honestly, I had the same thought for a while, even when I was excited to have kids. I had so many doubts about it, I mean how could I not? But when it came down to it, I couldn’t afford to be anything less than a great father. Of course I had my moments, and still do years later, but I wouldn’t be able to let myself be anything less than I am. If you love your kids enough, you find a way.”

“How did having kids so young impact your career? Obviously it didn’t hurt it too much considering you are in your second year driving in Formula 1.”

“Well, I decided I wouldn’t advertise my situation unless a team was very serious about me. Prema knew, Alpine did too and of course McLaren does. All were welcoming and accommodating, as much as they could be. I don’t think I would have gone with any of them if they weren’t cool with it though. I realized the minute my kids were born I would give it all up for them, which scared the hell out of me.”

“That is admirable. All these years later you are still with their mother, correct?”

“Yes! I asked her to marry me over break. Everyone close to us had been confused as to why it took so long but we had discussed marriage together many times and made the decision that because our relationship moved so fast with having kids so young, we would wait a bit. I mean, we are still young but I honestly couldn’t wait any longer. She is everything to me and the most wonderful mother my kids could have.”

“Have your kids been around the paddock yet? I assume they are old enough to understand what you do.”

“They have been to the factory and come with me to meetings when we haven’t had a sitter for them. Luckily, they are both very well behaved in public, they also really like watching the races on tv and have somewhat of an understanding of what I do. They don’t believe I actually drive the car though.” Oscar rumbled. Trying to convince his twins that yes, their father actually does drive the cars they see going super fast, has been an ongoing issue. They seem to believe he is tricking them but have no problem believing Uncle Logan and Uncle Lando drive the cars. It has definitely humbled him immensely.

“Well you will have to fix that soon huh? Will they be attending races in the future?”

“I am trying to work that out with my fiancée actually. They are almost four so we don’t want them traveling too far, I also don’t believe they will be able to be entertained solely by the race the entire time so we have a lot to deal with. But I think seeing them on the paddock supporting me will be one of the best moments of my life. I selfishly can’t wait for them to come.”

The interview wrapped up shortly after that. Getting to reminisce on the start of his relationship and how far they have come and how many wonderful things are in the future put Oscar in a deliriously happy mood. He couldn’t wait to get home to his family.

Walking through the door, he was immediately welcomed to the sound of toddler meltdowns. Fully entering the house, he saw his very tired fiancée rubbing her face as she tried to calm her babies down. Clearly this had been going on for a while.

Despite how upset she looked, she immediately perked up at seeing Oscar had returned. But that immediately went away as she remembered the screaming kids and how messy the house and herself were.

“Sorry honey, I know you are probably so tired after the interview and meetings earlier and these two missed their nap so they are so cranky and I just-” He cut her off with a kiss. Once he pulled away she looked at him, perplexed. A kiss from Oscar was never unwelcome but it was the last thing she expected at that moment.

“Hey, look at me.” He said as he put a hand on her cheek. “I love you and our little family so much and you never, ever have to apologize for something as trivial as this. Why don’t you go get in the bath and relax a little and I will try to wrangle these two, okay?”

In her eyes, Oscar had never been hotter than he was now. Now it was her turn to surprise him with a kiss, even more passionate than the first. They would have continued if it hadn’t been for more screaming from their two kids.

Still, Oscar wouldn’t change a thing.

#formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri #op81 fluff #op81 imagine #op81 x reader

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kizoken · 2 months

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❝𝐈 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐌 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐀 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊

𝐆. 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 ❞

✶ smut ; afab!reader , jealous ex suguru , rich girl!reader , oral , little angst , suguru jerks off with reader's panties , alcohol , make up sex , toxic relationship , biker!suguru .

✶ word count ; 1.4k

✶ m.list & request

✶ ❝took me fifteen centuries to get back on the grind but, whatever.❞

"he's staring at you...again." your friend yelled to you through the booming music. you frowned and stopped kissing the random cute guy that approached you. wiping your mouth, you asked her where he was.

"sitting by the bar." lo and behold, a daring and deathly stare was directed your way. but not to you precisely, to the random man that was taking advantage of your generosity. or that is what he thought. his gaze then set on yours and he smiled.

your face contorted at the sight of your ex-boyfriend's lurking eyes and shifted your attention to where you previously were. but the man you were making out was nowhere to be seen.

"suguru!" you cursed to yourself; it was clear this disappearance was orchestrated by him. "you called angel." his voice soft and tantalizing in your ear made you jolt back in disdain.

"you fucking asshole!" you looked at him, dead in the eye. "what did you do?!" he does this all the time, scaring your hook-ups away efficiently like a wonder pesticide. every move of his were foreign to your understanding, nevertheless, deep in the psyche of your mind you found this behavior cute.

"just watching out for the prettiest girl here...can't i?" he smiled and placed a hand at the side of your neck. the friend that announced you suguru geto was prowling around, swiftly began to intervene before you settled her down.

"love the thought! though worry about yourself and your people rather than you ex. it's not a good look on you." you give him a sour smile. "makes you look like a stalker."

"don't call me that angel!" he pouted, "i can't help that every day i spend without your company is misery; how could i not miss you?" you despised how he tugged at your heart strings the way that he did. his deep voice purring how much he wanted you back, needed you or missed you. shame on you if you were going to get fooled a second time, you were not going to let yourself be with a man that had any woman at his disposition at his back and call. even when he had you.

but lord, did he make you feel like the only girl his eyes have ever seen, whose touch he's ever felt, whose lips he's ever kissed. you had everything at your beck and call, nothing was out of your grasp, except suguru geto and his fickle heart.

even if your fiery feelings were creeping back, rationality has yet to abandon you. "suguru; i am so not falling for your dirty, empty words— go and mind torture some other girl than me. i've had enough of you."

suguru was completely taken aback by your words. the last thing he wanted was to make you too uncomfortable, just a little tease here and there. but his intentions of going back to you were in his capabilities, sincere. "oh-i, i apologize," he took a deep breath, "let me make it up to you, yeah?"

"...fine." you conceded, too mentally drained by him, and you might as well take him for his money's worth, even when you could pay our own drinks. the booming music from the club was making you sick at this point, and you really wanted to go home. "don't try a thing."

you would regret not fighting enough to keep those words as they were. it was a terrible idea to take him up on his proposal to take you back to your parent's place. the terrible decisions began to pile up as you clutched yourself around his toned torse in the bike you knew all too well. arriving to your parents' and offering him a drink at their bar. the alcohol mixed with undying feelings for your ex-boyfriend led you to seek the comfort of his lips once again.

suguru happily obliged to your necessities, he was obviously subduing his as well. "i missed you so much..." you say between desperate kisses, halting yourself and placing your hand onto his chin gaining his full attention, "i fucking hate it; i hate you."

"don't say that beautiful...let me make you love me again, hmm?" he pouted, his sneaky hands trailed to settle on your ass, squeezing lightly but as a sign of him wanting more and masking his disdain by your words with his cheekiness. geto's drunken lips placed themselves around the cervices of your neck, making you remember how good he made you feel, no matter what.

you fell headfirst to his charming touch and began to let those barriers you have set up so high up to crumble, and just let yourself go. geto held on to your body, gripping it like the most coveted prize he's been fighting for. you both stumble up through the stairs, never leaving each other's lips.

geto knew exactly where you were taking him, your old room. as he stepped in deeper, memories of sneaking in from the window in his youth flashed through his mind. he laughed reminiscing about it, sweeping off your feet to hold you in the air he said; "remember the countless times i ran out the window without pants?"

"how could i forget," you giggled, "you always looked ridiculous." geto grumbled in playful annoyance as he threw you into the queen-sized bed.

"was i?" you nod.

he could not contain his smile, "anything to make you smile princess, even if i'm a fucking joke."

and so, it was mere seconds before your ex-lover was making you scream his name in ecstasy. geto delighted himself by how your pussy sucked him in vigorously.

the wet, sloppy noises of your cunt and geto's thighs slapping against yours echoed through your former bedroom. "yes~ sugu~ ah! moreee~!"

you loved that about him, how filthy he was in his pounding. your mewls hit a higher pitch as he began to play with your left nipple and your clit with his fingers. his thrusting never ceased, hitting every sweet spot there is to his knowledge.

"sugu~ your mouth...i-i ah" geto let out a moan, knowing exactly what you desired from him, and clamped harder on your bud. "fuck me with your mouth!"

"i need it hgn~ please, please, love!" your ex melted at your words; it was something he's been missing to hear. and none other girl could say to make him oblige to every word the way that you did.

"is that so pretty girl, you want my tongue inside your cunt?" he teased, loving the way you panted and twitched in desperation.

"yes! suguru, my pussy, use it, it's hgn~ ah! all yours..." your fingernails and tips dug around the muscular flesh of his arms, "always been."

the electric feeling induced you to keep your eyes shut during your plead. however you would instantly jolt, and your eyes opened fully as you sensed geto's skillful tongue tease a swipe all around your pussy.

"oh, yes!" you squeal, taking in every inch of his wet muscle's feel. geto's hands held on tightly around your thighs, caressing the plump skin of your legs. but he wanted to further feel your body, eager to reminisce how it used to feel.

relishing in the ensuring pleasure, you were surprised to feel geto's sturdy hand reach out for your own as it laid clench on your chest. you loosen your grip once you feel his touch.

your moans never failed to vibrate in the spacious room, inciting your ex-lover to grant a generous relief to his shaft. though in his mind it was not enough, so he rummaged throughout the messy sheets into finding a thin, small fabric you own.

geto unfolded the scrunched underwear and placed it on his cock, he began to caress himself around with the help of your panties. he stuttered as he pumped his relief while using something only of your own usage, as well as being one of the most private things a person could possess. his oral performance rallied all over your pussy.

the soft fabric of your panties made your ex moan, whimper and lap at your pussy with his tongue like a starved man, it sent you to overdrive, cumming all over his face.

"sugu, fuck, so good...keep it up." and those heavenly squeals of yours mixed with alcohol and tiredness, shoot heavy strings of his cum into your underwear with no remorse. taking a few, heavy breaths in, he calmed himself down and began to trail kisses around your body until it fell on your lips.

"can i stay?" he said with a cheeky tone and a full grin as he placed himself beside you. geto trails his arms on your naked torso, embracing you while waiting for your answer.

still panting and exhausted, though enjoying his comfort, you say, "fine."

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edenmemes · 8 months

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baldur's gate 3 starters (part 1)

part 1 / ? .

❝ a less trusting person might think this all sounds very suspicious. ❞ ❝ you say all the right words, but i’m not sure you mean the right things. ❞ ❝ i know somewhere quiet. somewhere intimate. somewhere we can…indulge in each other. ❞ ❝ eugh, don’t be nice to me. it makes me want to be nice back. ❞ ❝ we needn’t be enemies. there’s plenty of those to go around already. ❞ ❝ there’s a steeliness to you, an unwavering tenacity in the face of, to be frank, quite dire odds. ❞ ❝ even the waves of fate can break upon the shores of will. ❞ ❝ i appreciate anyone that opens a conversation with threats of bodily harm. ❞ ❝ oh, you know me - ever the optimist. i’m trying to focus on the positives. ❞ ❝ i’m not easily impressed by people, but you’re stronger than i gave you credit for. ❞ ❝ there’s an air about you. something alien. ❞ ❝ loosen the grip on your pride for one blasted moment, won’t you? ❞ ❝ it’s been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that. ❞ ❝ there’s something odd about this village. people skulk around like they’ve something to hide. ❞ ❝ you know, if you want to spend time with me, you only have to say so. ❞ ❝ i want to know what the world sees when it looks at me. what you see. ❞ ❝ what’s better than a devil you don’t know? a devil you do. ❞ ❝ you must know that you’re…that you’re very special to me. ❞ ❝ the gods are nothing if not vindictive in their vengeance. ❞ ❝ stay with me a while, will you? day will come all too soon. ❞ ❝ here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. ❞ ❝ i am terrified. i will not claim otherwise. ❞ ❝ my apologies. i’m not quite myself yet. i had the strangest dream last night. ❞ ❝ we didn’t die today. tomorrow, perhaps. but not today. ❞ ❝ leader’s need to make tough decisions. we do what we must. ❞ ❝ i think that unknowable powers come with unknowable consequences. ❞ ❝ i’ve had a lifetime’s fill of watching little men puff themselves up with grand titles. ❞ ❝ in these times, all we can trust are the blades in our hands. ❞ ❝ it’s not easy to turn away from one you once loved. ❞ ❝ much has been promised to you, hasn’t it? but what has been taken from you? ❞ ❝ damn it all. i can do nothing right - not a damn thing. ❞ ❝ every instinct i have tells me that nothing’s changed. that i’m still just a means to an end. ❞ ❝ do not speak of a story you only know the half of. ❞ ❝ i dreamt every night that you’d come back to me. that somehow it was all a nightmare dawn would undo. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ your eyes. there is pain, endless and deep. but also devotion - blazing like the sun. ❞ ❝ you’re adorable even when you’re teasing me. ❞ ❝ i don’t need your help, and i don’t need your pity. ❞ ❝ i’m more than what i was. and i’m not afraid of anything any more. ❞ ❝ i said exactly what i meant: i love you. you should never, never doubt that. ❞ ❝ this is all like some sort of terrible dream. but it’s real, isn’t it? ❞ ❝ there is no redemption. can’t you see? it is too late. ❞ ❝ i don’t know that it was brave. i just know that it was right. ❞ ❝ you took those bastards down like it was nothing. it…was amazing. ❞ ❝ they underestimated me. so they paid the price. ❞ ❝ we fight, we die, and we just hope that when our time comes, there is someone else to take our place. ❞ ❝ unfortunately for me, you’re my friend. rescuing you from mortal peril is my right. ❞ ❝ what did you think i was going to say? 'oh, come here, i'll kiss you better'? ❞ ❝ flowers are so overrated. they're bright, gaudy, and almost never make good poisons. ❞ ❝ i’ve been lied to, my whole life. and i was gullible enough to just believe it. ❞ ❝ you know, i never pictured myself as a hero. never thought i'd be the one they toast for saving so many lives. and now that i'm here…i hate it. ❞ ❝ you know, i feel a connection between us. like we're two souls walking the same path. ❞ ❝ the forgiving sort, are you? you should be careful. plenty would take advantage of that. ❞

❝ it’s as if god made you just to ruin me. ❞ ❝ perish the thought. every word i said was nothing less than true. ❞ ❝ you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it. ❞ ❝ i got my eye on you. you got the look of a troublemaker. ❞ ❝ i’m starting to think you’re my guardian angel. ❞ ❝ it seems you know me better than i know myself. ❞ ❝ you…you have no idea what you’ve done. ❞ ❝ they say madness and genius are separated by but a hair’s breadth. perhaps the same is true of madness and stupidity. ❞ ❝ oh, it’s you. don’t you get tired of telling people how to live their lives? ❞ ❝ good morning! thank you for not killing me the other night. ❞ ❝ when the time comes to strike, you must take it. for there may be only one chance. ❞ ❝ it is good to savour the moment of victory - but pace bg3 syourself. our fight is just beginning. ❞ ❝ i was too hasty to judge you. i thought you were witless, gutless, unimpressivably bland… ❞ ❝ yours is the first happy face i’ve seen in a good while. ❞ ❝ when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair – that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door. ❞ ❝ thank you, my friend. maybe we’ll meet again, in another life. ❞ ❝ you’ll regret sticking your nose in my business. ❞

#roleplay meme #rp meme #rp starters #roleplay starters

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cumikering · 2 months

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Neighbour Ghost x reader

2.6k | fluff, mentions of physical abuse If Simon still had his family (part 2)

Simon Riley just got back to the safe house when he saw it.

Tommy Riley, 2 hours ago, 5 missed calls

It’s mum. Call back.

His heart thumped as the phone rang. “Mum?” he said as soon as the line connected. ”Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Oh, Simon…” her voice cracked.

His dad had always been an alcoholic ever since he could remember. He and his younger brother Tommy grew up witnessing his antics: stumbling through the door with slurred shouts in the wee hours of the night, often breaking things in the house, taunting them with the exotic animals he brought on occasions, if he even came home at all.

Mrs. Riley turned the other cheek, making excuses for him. As a child, Simon believed her, that people were short sometimes. Because daddy was tired at work, because mummy didn’t cook dinner right, or forgot to buy his favourite beer… Until he grew up and saw the behaviour as what it was.

But she never left, reassuring him his dad would never lay a hand on her. Simon didn’t trust that bastard of a man, but it was her choice to stay and he could only respect that. It was not his decision to make.

At least if he couldn’t bring her the happiness she deserved, he had to do something to distract himself from the hell at home and divert his aggression. That, and he wanted to help make the world a better place. When he left for the military, he firmly warned Tommy to take care of mum and to be there for her if anything was to happen.

Still, Simon spent his adult life painstakingly watching, waiting for the man’s first misstep so he could eliminate that cancer out of everyone’s life once and for all. The day was finally here. His dad had chased his mum about the house with a knife.

“I- I’ve got nothing but the clothes on my back. I walked barefoot to Tommy’s,” she said between sobs.

“How long has this-“ He stopped himself. It was not the time. He took a deep breath, his hand in a fist, knuckles white. “You’re catching the next train to Hereford,” he growled through gritted teeth. “You’ll stay at my flat until I’m back and we’ll figure things out. Someone from the base will call and help you out.”

“I don’t want to be a bother, Si. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re never a bother,” he said sternly. “I only go back home on the weekends, just stay there. I need you to be safe, mum. Please.”

In Hereford, on a chilly Tuesday night as you made your way down the hall to your flat, there stood a lady fumbling with the key to her own. On the floor laid bags overflowing with fresh produce. She turned as your footsteps approached.

“Hiya, sweetheart. Terribly sorry, but could you give me a hand please? I can’t seem to get the door.” She was middle aged, greying short hair, soft spoken with a Manchester accent.

“’Course.” You smiled at her as she moved aside. “Don’t think I’ve seen you here before.” The key only turned halfway before stopping.

“I just got here some days ago.”

You grunted before turning it all the way. “There you go.” You pushed the door open.

“Oh, you’re an angel, luv.“ She thrusted a bag of apples towards you. “It’s not much, but here. Please have these as a thanks.”

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am. It’s nothing really.”

“Please, I insist.” She put her hand on yours. “And it’s Melanie.”

You smiled. “Welcome to the building, Melanie. I’m at the end of the hall if you need me.”

You spent Saturday morning baking, courtesy of Melanie’s delicious gift. Even that you devoured the apples throughout the days, you didn’t want to risk the rest going bad on you – you could only eat so much. As you let the pie cool, you cleaned up before making your way to her flat.

It didn’t take long for the door to open. Your smile fell as you blinked at the man staring down at you. His stature huge, almost filling the doorframe as he stood unmoving.

You cowered, eyes darting away. “Hi, uh, is Melanie in?”

“Melanie?” he repeated, voice gruff and cautious. He leaned his forearm against the frame, appearing even more intimidating than the situation needed him to be. “What does this concern?”

You took a step back. “Just… wanted to give this to her.” You held out the pie towards him.

“Who is it, Si?” a woman from behind him called.

The man stepped aside to reveal the much shorter Melanie.

Her face lit up. “Oh, hello, luv. What a surprise!”

“Thanks for the apples, Melanie. I made you this.” You trudged the pan towards her, shifting your weight.

“Come in, come in. This is my son, Simon.” She turned to the man, patting his arm. “She’s the bird who helped me with the door the other day.”

Still with the sharp stare, he gave you a curt nod before you followed Melanie in, placing the pie on the dining table.

“Lunch is almost ready. Would you care to stay, luv?” She made her way towards the stove and muttered, “I always cook too much.”

You smiled. “I’d love to, sure. It smells lovely.”

You helped set up the table as she finished up the soup and brought it out. Simon got himself a helping and sat across you with Melanie beside the both of you. The blond was a few years older than you, jaw lined with a light stubble, but those brown eyes. They were icy, calculating as he glared at you.

Even that the soup was tasty, you regretted saying yes to it as you ate under his scrutiny. Instead, you averted your gaze to take in the flat. The layout was similar to yours, but quality pieces furnished it instead. The large, dark couch in the corner of the living room looked particularly comfortable, behind it a tall shelf lined with books. It was sparsely decorated, and too tidy to be recently moved into without boxes about.

“Do you know if they’ve got a farmer’s market nearby, luv?”

“I don’t, sorry. I get by going to Tesco.” You gave her a soft laugh. “But I can help you ask around.”

She beamed. “That’d be very nice.”

“I do know a bakery a few blocks away with wonderful loaves though. I always buy there.”

While the both of you chatted about the area, Simon was wordless. In fact, he almost didn’t make a noise at all, but at least he’d stopped staring which allowed you to finally relax your back you didn’t realise had been tense. You thanked her again for lunch, and she promised to return the pie pan as soon as she could.

Later that evening, the knock on the door took you away from your laptop. You expected Melanie, but were instead greeted by Simon. Standing a respectable distance from the doorway, he didn’t look like he was trying to scare you this time even that his gaze was as stony.

“Thanks for the pie. Was mint.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his flat tone, taking the pan from him. “I’m glad you liked it.”

He grunted, averting his gaze. “I wanted to thank you, for how nice you’ve been to my mum.” He looked back up at you. “She’s having a bit of a hard time adjusting.”

Your shoulders relaxed. “I understand. It’s not always easy going somewhere new.”

“If you ever need anything, feel free to drop by.” He gave you a half smile before turning away.

The blond Mancunian was the last person you expected at your door on Wednesday night. You’d just taken your coat off as you arrived back from work.

“I got greedy and bought too much takeaway. Would you like to join us for dinner?”

You laughed. “Really? Too much food?”

“I’m not fond of leftovers.” He shrugged, inadvertently emphasising his size.

“Well, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Mon’ then.” He tiled his head towards his flat, his hands now shoved in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“Glad you could join us, luv.” Melanie smiled as she set the table.

“Hard to resist takeaway.” You chuckled as you approached. Takeaway boxes almost covered the entirety of the table. “Wow, this is a whole spread.”

“I said the same thing!”

“What can I say, I’m a hungry man,” he said gruffly behind you.

You turned to him in amusement. He gave you a shrug, but this time his eyes didn’t look as hard. In fact, you thought you saw a whisper of a smile on his lips.

Later that Saturday as you lounged around on the couch, you looked up from your book at the knock on the door. It was once again Simon in his hoodie, his posture impressive as always.

“My mum told me to run to the shops because we’re out of salt. Any chance you’ve got some to spare so I don’t have to?”

“Salt? Of course.” You headed to the kitchen, leaving the door open.

His fingertips brushed against yours as you handed him the ceramic container.

“She’s cooking pasta. Fancy some?” He tilted his head towards his flat.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” He raised an eyebrow.

You gave him an amused smile. “I’m starting to feel like a freeloader.”

“It’s the least we can offer in return of the salt.”

“It’s just salt.”

“We wouldn’t be eating without your salt, if I’m honest.”

The smile remained as you shook your head.

“Come, she’s waiting.”

At the stove, Melanie thanked you for the ‘life-saving’ salt when you should be the one thanking her for her hospitality. By now, you knew where the tableware was and started setting the table, but this time Simon trailed, grabbing glasses and closing the cabinet doors after you.

“It’s brilliant, really,” you said after the first bite of the tomato pasta. “You’re feeding me too well.”

She smiled proudly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not a culinary prodigy at all, but please let me return the favour and make the meal next time.”

“Don’t wor-“

“When?” Simon piped up.

“Next weekend sounds good?”

“Can’t do.”

You hummed. “Well, I won’t have enough time to cook anything fancy on weekdays.”

Melanie swatted her hand. “Oh, you really don’t have to, luv.”

“But there’s still tomorrow. How does lunch sound? I’ll do the shopping today.”

“I’ll drive. Need to pick up a few things too.”

You smiled at him and turned to Melanie. “You want to come with?”

She shook her head. “You kids have fun.”

Simon cleaned up while you got ready before leaving in his SUV. In the sun, his eyes were gorgeous glimmers of deep caramel framed by long, blond lashes. He’d pushed his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows, revealing his toned forearms – the left one inked.

It flexed as his hand rested atop the steering wheel at the red light. You could see the details from here – skulls and rifles over fire adorned his pale skin. You wondered how far up the monochrome sleeve extended.

He still hadn’t said anything since he picked you up at your door. At this point, you couldn’t tell if he was awkward or simply didn’t like to talk. You tried your luck anyway.

“How do you find the building so far?”

“No complaints. Been there over a year.”

“Really? I don’t think I’d seen you before actually.”

“I don’t really live there. Just on the weekends, if any.”

“Didn’t Melanie say she just got here weeks ago?”

“She’s visiting.” He turned to you. “I meant it when I said she likes your company.”

You smiled. “She’s real sweet. I hope she enjoys her stay.”

When you arrived, he beat you to the basket at the entrance.

“I’ll get it. On you, luv.”

You got called ‘luv’ all the time, but the way he said it made you look away. You couldn’t ignore the tickle that ran down your spine.

On the way to the produce section, the offer sign caught your eye as you passed the biscuit aisle. You reached for the goldfish crackers you hadn’t had in a while.

“Two goldfish are in a tank…” he started behind you.

You turned to him, a brow raised.

“One looks at the other and says ‘You know how to drive this thing?’”

Nothing prepared you for a joke from him, the brooding man in oversized hoodies who barely spoke. You cackled embarrassingly loud in the empty aisle. It was your first time seeing him actually smile. He had pretty teeth, and his eyes finally thawed, crinkles by them.

“That’s a good one,” you said after your laughter died down, chucking a bag into the basket.

The ghost of a smile remained on his lips as he looked ahead. You took it as a cue to move along. He stood behind you as you moved about and picked ingredients, telling you the reason he couldn’t do next weekend was because he was in the military and would be gone on a mission. You didn’t know it, but his gaze lingered on you the whole time.

Before long, you were ready to check out, grabbing a box of English Breakfast tea on your way there. In the queue, Simon stood a touch closer behind you than he needed to, his arm splayed on the railing next to you. You didn’t make a move against it. Instead you tried to make out the rest of his tattoo, but the way his veins budged under the ink from holding the basket distracted you.

It occurred to you people had joined the line when you heard giggles behind the wall of Simon. You couldn’t help tuning into the rather loud conversation. One of the girls was dared to skydive after losing a round of beer pong, and the instructor was “so fucking hot summer came back to Birmingham”. She very much looked forward to their date the following week.

You bit back a smile. You were oddly proud of the stranger. You go, girl.

Simon tapped your shoulder and leaned into your ear. “Why don’t blind guys skydive?”

You only managed to turn a fraction before coming face to face with him. Your breath hitched, not expecting the proximity.

“Because it scares the shit out of their dogs.”

Your laughter boomed before you slapped a hand over your mouth and turning to him fully. His warm eyes returned with his smile, looking absolutely pleased with himself.

The eye contact remained a touch longer, only broken by the cashier calling for the next customer. You whipped towards the lady, gaze cast down as Simon hoisted the basket onto the counter.

He didn’t give you a chance to pay as he already had his phone ready at the receiver, shrugging off your protests. You didn’t mention the fact that he didn’t even pick up anything for himself.

It wasn’t a lot, but Simon carried all the shopping up to your flat. You gathered the bags from him after you opened the door.

You pulled a box of salt from one of them. “Here’s for your mum.”

He quickly took it and looked away.

“Thanks again for the ride. See you tomorrow, yeah?”

He nodded, but stood unmoving. His boots only thudded away when you’ve locked the door.

@tiredmetalenthusiast @shadofireshinobi @keegansshark @two-gh0sts @rowanyaboats

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cleolinda · 20 days

Text

I’ve read a few of the umpteen thousand upset comments about the paid Watcher service, and I’ve read comments angry about the upset comments. There’s one thing I want to point out, and it’s that this isn’t, or shouldn’t be, “You’re saying people don’t deserve to earn money for their work.”

The Watcher guys do deserve to earn money. I already give them money. I give them $5 a month on Patreon, not because I think they do or don’t give me $5 worth of media, but because I want to support them. I canceled Netflix for pissing me off with its price hike/ad tier, but I give Watcher Entertainment money.

They’re saying now that the Patreon will be solely about the podcasts, and they understand if people leave. I’m perfectly happy to switch the support I can afford to the streaming service. With the early adopter 30% discount, I’d actually save money. In fact, I tried to subscribe, but the site didn’t work.

Watcher wanting to profit from their shows isn’t the problem. It’s that they’re now discovering that their fanbase is young and broke in a terrible economy, judging by tens of thousands of comments on multiple platforms. I can throw them $5/month, so I do. But the Patreon only has (checks notes) 5874 paying followers, and there’s a reason for that. $60/year upfront would not be “accessible.” Patreon is literally patronage from the people who can afford it.

If the guys had said up front, “ONLY new shows and episodes will be exclusive to the service,” I think we’d be having a different conversation right now. But at first they did say, “We’re pulling all our content from YouTube,” to the point where Variety had to issue an update. Like, that’s in print and I’m pretty sure it was on video. Now they’ve backtracked to ONLY new etc.—but most people haven’t heard, and they feel crushed. And the trust is probably gone regardless.

So now four years of back catalogue will stay public. And now, you’re paying $6.99 a month for one episode, maybe two, of something a week, and now, not an exclusive back catalogue. I would pay for Watcher shows before I’d pay for anyone else, but I just don’t think the company is big enough yet for a SVOD at that price. They’re not Dropout size. They needed to build more programming and get a higher follower count first, or at the very least, charge less.

The international price/exchange rate situation is a nightmare and I don’t know what it is they’re not doing to make it… not… be like that.

I don’t know what they should have done instead of a full streaming service, but surely there were alternatives? I’ve seen comments from people suggesting they GET a Patreon. Lean on that more! Do the shows exclusive for a month and then let them roll onto YouTube! I don’t know! Anything but One More Fucking Streaming Service, which enraged me, and I was willing to move my support to it!

And I shouldn’t say this, but I will. In the “Goodbye YouTube” video the guys posted, they say that setting up the streaming service has allowed Steven to do a remake of Worth It where he and his cohosts travel the world and eat expensive food. This is the first new show they announce. Not “We have always been committed to diversity and we’re now able to bring on new creator(s) to expand our programming.” No, a redo of an old show that by definition has got to be expensive. Commenters are saying they can’t pay for the streaming service because they can’t make ends meet in this economy. The optics are terrible. I genuinely question what the thought process even was here.

I love the guys and I still watch their shows. I want to see Watcher succeed. I started watching Buzzfeed Unsolved in 2018 while recovering from surgery—as with a lot of people, their shows got me through a tough time. I’m as attached as anyone. If I can continue to afford monthly support—this is not a certainty—I’ll give it to them. I’m not a ~hater who doesn’t want Watcher to make money. But I am absolutely BAFFLED by every single decision here. I want them to figure out how to turn this around and go in a better direction, because right now, this ain’t it.

#long post #I hope nobody hates me for this but like #this is someone supporting you #this is the best I can do #and that should tell you something #watcher

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denwritesandcries · 6 months

Text

Work of Art – Hazel Callahan

Pairing: loser!hazel x artist!reader

Summary: You join a fight club just to spend more time with your pretty friend, Hazel Callahan. The fact that you're running out of time to finish an art project is just a detail.

Word count: 3,5k.

Content: loser!hazel trying to be smooth, sylvie being a chaotic ala, cursing, flirting, mutual pining, friends to lovers, my questionable comedy, a little blood at the start, reader is a SIMP.

A/N: This came up to me after the ‘these girls are ugly’ scene and I had to make a dramatic story about it. I'm so soft for this character, I just wanna hold her and tell her how beautiful she is.

English is not my first language.

There's a sketchbook opened on your lap, a coal pencil on your hand and a fight happening in front of you.

Technically, that's what you were supposed to be doing too – fighting with someone – it was fight club, after all. Instead, you were sitting against a wall, hastily trying to finish a sketch for your art club project.

In your defense, you weren't even going to join this self-defense club in the first place, having been quite happy just occupying yourself with your art club after school, but your friend Sylvie came up to you one day completely excited about the idea, saying that she really wanted to participate, but that to keep going they needed more members and there enters you.

You said no right away, claiming that you would end up getting overwhelmed trying to balance both clubs with all the meetings, but Sylvie could be so convincing – more like insistent – with her methods, even shouting "PLEASE COME!" in a hallway full of people during classes, that you ended up giving in to when it became too embarrassing. Therefore, you agreed to go to a meeting without the promise of staying.

You regretted that decision and swore to burn Sylvie’s stupid beanie in the first punch that hitted you. You were terrible at fighting.

After being beaten up by a girl you didn't even know the name of, you ended up with a split lip and a bruise forming on your cheek and were ready to go find your friend and gently let her down by telling her that this really wasn't your thing, that is until Hazel Callahan approaches you.

Hazel. The same Hazel who sat three seats away from you in history class for four years, with whom you usually paired up during assignments but didn't talk much. The same Hazel who is standing in front of you with a weird smile and a washcloth in her hand.

“Uh…” you start, not quite sure what to say, “Do you need anything?”

"Oh!" She seems to realize that she's been silent and staring at you for too long, shaking her head, "No, not really, but you looked like you needed it," Hazel holds out the washcloth to you.

You notice that she's doing her best to look casual, shrugging her shoulders with fake indifference and pointing to your bleeding lip with the hand holding the cloth while the other is stuffed into the pocket of her baggy, ripped jeans. The sight is so captivating that it makes you smile even when you don’t want to, with the sudden feeling that you two should interact more.

“Oh, what a gentleman," you joke when you accept and take the cloth from her hand and are happy with the fact that the fabric is dark when your blood stains it, "You came to comfort me after spending all this time watching my ass being kicked?"

Her eyes widened in panic and Hazel squealed like an alarmed puppy, "No!" She exclaims, "I didn't mean that, really. It's just that you seemed upset and I–"

“Haze, it’s okay,” you interrupt and reassure her with a gentle hand on her arm, “I’m just messing with you.”

She shakes her head, still in denial, her face red: "But you weren't that bad."

You snort, any trace of upset seeming to leave your body, “But it was bad.”

Hazel looks away from you while playing with the rings on one of her hands, she seems to want to tell you something, so you wait in silence until she has the courage.

"So…" she starts, "Are you staying? At the club, I mean."

'No,' you want to say, 'This place is completely chaotic, I have other things I'd like to do and I bet I'll get my ass kicked every time I go up against someone here.' But Hazel is looking at you with her head cocked to the side and bright, hopeful blue eyes and what kind of monster would you be to deny something and wipe that look off her face?

“Maybe.” you answer instead, an uncertain smile on your face, “I’m still thinking about it.”

That seems to be enough to satisfy her and you quickly turn around, putting the bloodstained cloth inside your backpack and packing your things to leave when you realize that you two were the only ones left in the place.

"Walk with me?" You nod towards the exit for Hazel to follow you and she does so shyly.

As you walk around the school grounds your bodies are close enough that your shoulders touch as you walk and the interaction brings you a surprising amount of comfort.

"You know," Hazel starts again, her voice at a high pitch, she clears her throat with a fist against her mouth before continuing, "You don't have to if you don't want to, but uh–" Hazel stutters, face red again, "It would be really nice if you stayed.”

You turn your head to look at her side face, her nervous attitude warming your heart in a jarring way and you suddenly wonder why you and Hazel have never been closer before, even though you've technically known each other for so many years. It seemed almost unfair to be deprived of her company for so long.

“This fighting thing really isn’t for me,” you shrugged and continued before a look of disappointment could wash over her, “But I think people make it worth coming back for.”

You hoped she would notice the flirting tone in your words; Hazel could be terrible at reading between the lines.

"Oh, you're right!" She replied with an excited smile, "I managed to make a lot of friends there since it started, maybe you can too!”

You raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for Hazel to realize what she said just to tease her, and she did, panicking.

"I didn't mean that you don't have friends!" She shouted with a wave of her arms, "I just– I just–"

Hazel's calm facade falls completely and you feel a laugh grow in your chest as you laugh openly. She takes a moment to compose herself before relaxing a little when she sees that you're not bothered.

"Okay, got it." you say with a final giggle, "Don't worry, I'll show up since it would be so nice if I stayed."

Sure, she may not have understood your flirting the first time, but her red face up to her ears and shy gaze stuck on the floor could only be an indication that she had now caught on.

When you reach the point where your paths part, you can't resist talking to Hazel one last time:

"Haze," You call in a relaxed tone as she heads to her car, "Is that really a women's empowerment club?"

Hazel smiles as she opens the door, without any nervousness this time, "I have no idea, but I like it."

You think you might like it too if you were going to see her like this more often.

When you get home that day, with your untouched art supplies weighing down your backpack, there's a message on your phone left from Sylvie. That little bastard had left without you even noticing.

slaygirl:

hey what u throught about the club

*thouth

sHIT

*thought

runned right home when I saw your mad face lol

You snorted with a roll of eyes. You had already made the decision anyway, there was no point in actually being mad at her.

you:

well I guess is not THAT bad

I'll make the sacrifice and participate

slaygirl:

HELL YEAH LET'S GOOO

told u would like it

You ask yourself one last time if you should really do this or not; the times between the fight club and art club meetings were so close together, it could easily turn into a mess. Then you think about Hazel and the way she seemed enchanted by the idea of you being there.

Fuck it, you thought, you can handle both.

You couldn't handle both. That was why you found yourself against that wall now, running out of time and without the proper sketches you were supposed to present later.

It was a relatively simple exercise that you had to do: draw everyday landscapes in charcoal pencil by sight. The problem is that you didn't have time to draw the requested amount and you haven't had much inspiration other than classrooms and parts of the school lately.

Luckily, no one really minded when you decided to opt to just be a spectator today; PJ and Josie being too busy flirting with Brittany and Isabel and Sylvie being just excited about getting into a fight with someone.

"And what are you doing there?" Hazel's voice scares you as she sits down next to you with a curious look and a small smile at the sound of your surprised squeak.

You had no idea where she had come from, having quickly talked to her as soon as you arrived and then gone straight to your task, but you were very happy to have her there now. You've been getting closer over the last few weeks since joining the club, just as you wanted, which has made all of your juggling between tasks totally worth it.

"Shouldn't you be beating up someone?" You dodged the question, giving her a look of fake reprimand.

She scoffed with a hand gesture, "I'll be right there, I just passed by to check on you," She pointed with her chin to the notebook with you, "So?”

You shrug, "Just trying to finish this project, but nothing seems to make me want to draw." You turn the sketchbook so Hazel can see the simple outline of the open area in which you practice defense, your hands are stained with coal pencil and the sheet is messy with outlines of bodies overlapping the paper.

For the confused look on her face and the slight tilt of her head, you can tell Hazel doesn't quite understand what you mean, but she gives you a reassuring smile anyway.

"You're talented, I'm sure you'll figure that out soon."

You feel a stupid smile growing on your face and you can't help the way your voice softens, "Thanks, Haze."

She returns your smile for a moment, but quickly looks away, seeming to want to break off the interaction.

Hazel breaks the silence that suddenly settles in: “Will you teach me?”, she asks.

You look at her confused, “What? Drawing?”

“Hm-hm,” She nods with a pout, “I always see you drawing during class and I'm terrible at it.”

You find her extremely captivating.

“Okay,” you snort, “I’ll give you drawing lessons if you give me fighting lessons. You’re better at this than me, than everyone here, actually.”

And then she gets nervous again, cheeks colored a soft red, stammering, “Oh– I– hm, alright.”

You think maybe she's going to say something more, but Hazel gets up and shakes her head like a puppy and your heart warms, before saying goodbye, giving you an awkward pat on the shoulder and running off to find a partner for the day's exercises.

A sigh leaves your chest as your gaze follows her as she walks, deciding to watch a little until you get the courage to finish your work.

Hazel is paired with a girl you had never spoken to but who you were sure was in your English class. A very pretty girl, by the way. It annoyed you how close they were and the way Hazel touched the girl so she could fix her position before they started fighting, the same way she did to you when you asked for help with your movements the other day; and it annoyed you even more the way the girl seemed to lean into her touch, exactly like you did on the few occasions when Hazel touched you for more than a few seconds.

Damn, you wish you knew the girl's name so you could actually get mad.

Your stomach turned uncomfortably the more you watched the duo, didn't that girl know that Hazel is... what? Your girlfriend? Your friend who you flirt with? This was practically the same as nothing. You had nothing. You couldn't be mad.

But man, you are annoyed.

With a shake of your head, you look away from the scene and open your sketchbook again, this time to a clean page. Better get back to work.

When you look up again, Hazel has the girl trapped in her arms. The way her best features are marked is unfairly hot, your silly jealousy ends up forgotten in favor of admiring how beautiful she is.

Unconsciously, you begin to trace the outline of her strong jaw onto the paper, letting the simple body outline you had begun take shape.

To you, Hazel was a work of art in every sense of the word, from her appearance to her most unusual mannerisms. Everything about her seemed to scream art and drawing her was an extremely satisfying action. It wasn't even the first time you had portrayed her, having made small sketches during the times you worked together in class and given them all to her – you wish you had kept at least one now –, maybe that's why she asked you for lessons anyway.

Either way, anything involving Hazel is more interesting than your original project.

You notice the way her hair falls over her face, the dark color contrasting with her big blue eyes, and you think it's a shame you didn't bring any supplies you could use to color them. There is a small cut where a yellowish bruise is on her cheek; Hazel seemed to always be recovering from some injury, even though she was the one who won most of the fights, not that you would count – liar, you did.

You draw the outline of her nose and lips with the practiced precision of someone who has done this many times before; she's wearing a dark green button-down shirt, one of your favorites on her, along with baggy black jeans and an old pair of vans; her hands are missing their usual rings and there are little green dinosaurs in her socks.

You won't add all of it, of course, it's not a full body drawing, but you can't help but notice every little detail about her.

Time passes without you noticing, your project remains completely forgotten while you draw Hazel from memory, no longer needing to turn to the annoying vision of her and the other girl. When the meeting is almost finished, Sylvie approaches you smiling and looks over your shoulder.

"Dude!" She exclaims in a knowing tone, “So that’s why you actually agreed to join the club!”

“Shh girl, do you want everyone here to know!?” You whisper-shouting and quickly pull the beanie she was wearing over her nose tightly, ignoring the chocked ‘fucking rude’ that Sylvie lets out.

“You should tell her,” Sylvie declares, because of course she would understand right away that you have a crush.

“What?" You ask, alarmed, “Like right now?”

"Yeah!" She pushes your shoulder in encouragement, “The day is almost over, it’s not like we have anything else to do anyway.” Sylvie shrugged, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

“I can’t just go there and tell.” You mumble, “And I have things to do.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure she likes you back!”

“And how can you know that?” You asked.

“How come you don’t know that?” Sylvie replied, “It’s kinda obvious.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but I’m not going to tell her anything now.” You insist stubbornly.

Sylvie looks like she's about to say something else, but a tricksy smile forms on her face when she sees someone approaching.

"Tell what?" Hazel's voice coming from nearby startles you and when you turn your face to find her, she's alone, no sign of the other girl in sight.

You were about to stutter something in response – and most likely make a fool of yourself – but Sylvie was quicker.

“Oh!” Your friend exclaims in false innocence, “I was trying to convince her to show you her drawing, but she’s such a perfectionist.”

You elbow her in panic and Sylvie lightly tugs at your hair as she stands up; you don't notice the dirty look Hazel gives to the interaction, wringing her hands in her pockets.

Sylvie walks away arching her eyebrows in a suggestive expression at you and your cheeks burn at the implication as Hazel takes her place beside you.

“So…” she begins, her voice strangely tense, “Did you finish what you were drawing? Can I see it?"

“Well…” You feel nervous, there’s no way to get out of this without making her sad and that’s the last thing you would want to do. Taking a deep breath, you decide to go ahead: “Inspiration came to and I drew something, but it’s not for my project, I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

"Yes, I will!" Hazel adjusts herself excitedly, your knees touching, “Can I see it?” she repeats.

You gulp and nod, turning the sketchbook towards her. Hazel lens even closer to you to see the result, her chin brushing your shoulder and a hand running up your back and resting there, surprising you, you feel the coldness of her hand and the outline of her rings – when she did put them back? – through the fabric of your t-shirt.

You feel the moment Hazel registers the drawing on the sheet and her breath hitches, the action sending a shiver up your spine.

"Then?" You ask nervously, “What do you think?”

But Hazel remains silent. When you turn to look at her, her jaw is dropped in complete disbelief and a deep blush covers her face from her cheeks to her ears.

“Haze?” You call, unsure.

“That’s– it’s beautiful.” She stutters, one hand delicately touches the paper, coal staining her fingers, “It’s me. It’s me… beautiful.”

“You are beautiful,” you correct without hesitation and Hazel’s gaze turns to you, “That’s nothing compared to you.”

She hesitates for a moment, “Why did you do that?”

"Why?" You echo, “You know why.”

And Hazel knows. You know she knows. There hasn't been a single day that the two of you haven't flirted, that there hasn't been this tension between you. There's no way she doesn't know, but someone needs to admit it.

She looks at you expectantly, the same lovely hope as before is back in her eyes, and again, who are you to take that look off her face?

You sigh, “I have a crush on you, Haze.”

She snorts, voice shaking in a confident attempt of a joke: “I know.”

You raise an eyebrow and give her an unimpressed look and Hazel immediately backtracks.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She exclaims, “I just– I like you too, a lot.”

You feel a smile tugging at your lips when you put the notebook and pencil aside to look at her fully and your faces are so close that you would only have to lean in for your lips to touch. God, you've never wanted something so much before.

You notice every little detail of her face; a fallen eyelash on her cheek, the faint marks of dark circles over her eyes, freckles over her nose that you had never gotten close enough before to see.

Hazel looks at you like she can't believe what's happening and honestly, neither can you.

“Please,” she whispers, eyes locked on your lips.

Hazel Callahan was the most beautiful work of art you had ever seen and as an artist, you know you should never touch artworks, but Hazel asks you and you could never deny her anything.

Your lips meet and it's softer than you thought it could be – even though you've thought about it many times then – and your hands rest on her cheeks like they belong there, she lets out a sigh of contentment that warms your heart.

When you pull away, there's a coal stain on Hazel's face from where your hand was before and her pupils are dilated like dark pits, it's unfair the way it makes your heart skip a beat.

She kisses you again, shorter this time and you would have chased her lips if it weren't for someone's voice scaring you:

“ATTA GIRL, I TOLD YOU YOU COULD DO IT!” Sylvie is on the other side of the gym, cheering and pointing at you.

You had completely forgotten that the meeting wasn't over yet.

“Dude,” PJ starts on the other side, “When did this happend?”

“You know this is a public space right?” Josie asks with a hand on her hip, “Don’t make out here, man.”

You shake your head in amusement and start to gather your things, “Okay, okay,” you say, “Let’s make out somewhere else then, come on Haze.”

Hazel seems too flustreaded to speak and doesn't argue as you take her hand and pull her along as you leave to the sounds of your friends cheering and joking.

“Where are we going?” She asks, you’re still holding hands.

You shrug innocently, “I promised you drawing lessons, didn’t I?”

In the end you don't show up at the art club that day, too busy spending time with your newest girlfriend and it's totally worth it.

#hazel callahan #bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan imagine #denwrites

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pandorxxx · 10 months

Text

Same page

Jake (avatar) x omatikayan fem reader (reader is in her early 20’s.)

Warnings: Cursing, p in v, orgasms, creampie, mentions of rough sex (bruises, dirty talk), smacking, Jake being a dilf, Tummy bulge.

Synopsis: Jake was an honest guy, a great leader, an amazing warrior, and loved by all. However, he has a terrible secret that you just won’t seem to let him live down. What will he do to keep you quiet?

Jake was always a pretty straight forward, honest man. After all, he was the leader of his own clan. Everyone loved, and adored him. He was always a great leader, and a helping hand. He had the perfect family, the perfect clan to run, and the perfect life. Or so it seemed.

It’s safe to say that everyone makes mistakes, everyone slips up once in a while. But jakes mistake was almost career ending. The people wouldn’t forgive him, his family wouldn’t forgive him, and your parents wouldn’t forgive him either.

This incident happened about a year ago. It was jakes birthday, and his warriors threw him a grand surprise party. There were food and drinks, maybe too many drinks. And once the party was over, and Jake was too drunk, he accidentally stumbled into your hut, and made the worst possible decision.

It wasn’t until he woke up to you serving him breakfast that he had realized the gravity of the situation. What made it even worse was that, you were completely swoon by him now. Some would even say crazily obsessed. You’d watch him train warriors from the trees, and watch as he’d embrace his wife as a normal husband would. But God, did it make your fucking blood boil.

You wanted to play it cool. You weren’t the type to blackmail or anything, but you were becoming a mad woman. You needed a hit of him again, and at this point, you’d do anything to get it.

“Just like that, chin up!” Jake directed as he paced slowly to make sure every warrior was holding their bow correctly.

“Good, Good! Hold it.” He commanded, standing in place as his huge arms crossed against his chest, eyeing every warrior in his sight. It wasn’t long until he heard faint steps behind him. He turned around to be met with your tiny figure, and his eyes almost bulged out of his scull.

“Bows down!” He commanded. The warriors immediately listening. “Uh, we’ll wrap this up tomorrow kids! Go on, dismissed! Enjoy your night.” He spoke nervously as he waved the warriors off. Once there were no more in sight, he grabbed your arm, pulling you to a nearby tree.

“What are you doing, y/n?” He asked in a surprisingly calm tone, considering you had been stalking him for a year now. But Jake always prided himself on being a patient man.

You smiled up at him, rubbing circles into his sides. Making him squirm under your touch. “I just wanted to see you. Is that ok?” You pouted, but he knew what game you were playing with him.

“What do you want, little one? You shouldn’t be here. You’ll get me in trouble.” He spoke lowly, holding your wrists in one of his large hands so that you couldn’t touch him anymore.

“You know what I want, sir.” You spoke sensually, eyes falling to his loincloth in wonder. He snapped his fingers, signaling for you to look him in the eyes, and you obliged.

“Never again. Do you hear me? You’re as old as Neteyam. This is not right.” He shook his head, looking around the forest nervously.

“One more time, and I’ll leave you alone. I know you were drunk the first time, and you probably don’t even remember. But I promise, I can fuck you so good. Way better than your wife.” You rambled, eyeing him up and down hungrily.

“Hush! You don’t know what you’re saying. I-I’ve corrupted you. And I feel horrible about it, I really do. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry y/n.” He confessed, looking into your eyes. However, you weren’t looking for an apology.

“Don’t apologize. I loved every minute of it. The things you did to me, the things you said. The love bites you left. I’ve never been fucked like that in my life.” You whined, bottom lip finding refuge in between your teeth.

“Wait. Things I said? W-What did I say to you?” He asked in a confused tone, his eyebrow cocked as he awaited an answer. You sighed happily, thinking back to that night, as you often did.

“How I was better than Neytiri. How tight my pussy was. How pretty I was. How well I took your fat fucking cock, how-“ you went to continue but he placed his large hand over your mouth.

“Fuck, enough.” He strained, removing his hand from your mouth. You smirked up at him, your tail swaying behind you in anticipation.

“And don’t get me started on the bruises you left on me. Didn’t know I was so into pain until you came around. Now I only want you to hurt me.” You smiled, running a hand down his chiseled abs.

“I hurt you? How?” He asked. Jake was completely oblivious. He wasn’t a stranger to sex, especially with his nympho of a wife. But he couldn’t recall ever hurting Neytiri in the way that he hurt you.

“You were just alittle…rough. But don’t worry. I’m a big girl. And I want it again.” You spoke, grabbing the band of his loincloth. He instinctively grabbed your wrists quickly, stopping all advances.

“I’m not- I can’t do this.” He spoke nervously, running his hands through his hair. You went in, kissing his chest shamelessly.

“Just one more time, please? You can’t fuck me how you did, and just leave me hanging JAKE. I need it, dammit!” You snapped, stomping your foot in anger.

“God, keep your fucking voice down!” He strained, backing you into the tree with one little push, holding you there with one finger.

“I-I’ll do it. But this is the LAST time, you hear me? I don’t wanna hear about this ever again.” He commanded, ripping your loincloth off in anger. He was just ready to get this over with. His entire plan was to give you the most intense fuck of your life, so that you wouldn’t come back to him. Good plan, right?

“I promise! I promise I won’t talk about it again!” You nodded excitedly, eyes bulging out of your scull in excitement. He shook his head in frustration.

“How do you want it?” He asked, getting harder by the second. He was a man at the end of the day, and you were very beautiful.

“Like last time.” You spat, running your hands up his arms. He let out a sigh of frustration, placing his hands on the bark behind you.

“I don’t remember last time, honey. You’re gonna have to be more specific than that, hmm?” He titled his head, peering down at you as he awaited an answer.

You chuckled into your hand like a nervous young girl who was talking to her crush for the first time. He pulled your hand away from your mouth gently.

“No, you can’t get scared on me now. Tell me how I had you. What, was it from the back? Front? Side? In what way was I fucking you to have you so damn obsessed, tell me.” He whispered in your ear, sending shivers down you spine. You let out a soft whimper at his words, so ready for him to take you as his.

He began to kiss your neck gently, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. His large hands found refuge on your plump ass, squeezing it gently as he let out a low groan in satisfaction.

You could feel the waterfall pooling from in between your legs. You could also feel his large bulge pressing against your lower abdomen, thumping against your skin in anticipation for what’s to come.

You reached around lazily, untying his loincloth from around his hips. Once it fell, his cock sprung up, hitting his lower abdomen with a very loud, and heavy slap. Oozing precum trickling down his huge shaft, and all the way to his warm sack.

“Pick me up, sir.” You spoke nervously, standing on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck. He smiled down at you, immediately obliging.

He held you up in the air. Giving your plump ass a nice smack. “Mmm, so this was how I had you.” He whispered against your lips, before kissing you passionately. You grabbed the sides of his face to deepen the kiss. His lips were soft yet skilled. Completely taking over as his tongue explored your mouth.

He deemed it the perfect time to slide into you. Holding you up by your ass with one hand, while he grabbed his aching cock, giving it a few strokes before lining it up to your entrance.

With one hand, he guided you down onto him slowly, making sure not to hurt you. But it was safe to say that you felt full already. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your head in his neck to muffle your loud cries.

“I know, babygirl. Just a few more inches. You’re doing amazing.” You whispered in your ear, sucking on the lobe before completely bottoming out with a loud growl. Your mouth flew opened with a loud gasp. With little to no warning, he began to bounce you on his cock firmly.

You backed up to look at him, placing your shaky hand on his stomach. “S-Sir, too much.” You strained, watching the large imprint form in your stomach with every thrust.

“Does it not feel good, babygirl? Didn’t you tell me you liked the pain that comes with it? You dirty little whore.” He tilted his head, watching his cock completely destroy your guts. The mix of pleasure and pain was consuming you. Similar to that mosquito bite that you continue to scratch; it hurts so good, and you can’t stop.

“I-I know. B-But I-mmm! too good, sir. I-I can’t!” You whined, your body flailing around from his hard thrusts. He began to slow down, thrusting into you at an agonizing pace. If you were being honest, this pace might’ve been worse. You could feel every inch, ridge, and vein as he pumped into you slowly.

“Better?” He asked with a devilish smirk, knowing that you were slowly crumbling beneath him.

“So *thrust* fucking *thrust* big! *thrust*” you moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head in satisfaction. He watched in awe, you were completely drunk off of him, just how he liked it.

“Yes, I’m destroying this tight little pussy, aren’t I?” He asked, listening to the squelching sounds followed with every slow stroke he sent you.

“Yesss, sir!” You nodded lazily. He sent you one hard thrust, knocking the wind out of you. Your jaw became slack, looking into his eyes.

“Say Thank you. For giving you the best dick of your life.” He growled, repeating the same hard stroke again, leaving it in you. You gasped loudly, eyes crossing as he overstimulated you.

“Say it, Princess.” He teased, repeating the same action again, this time, rolling his hips directly into your sweet spot. You let out a loud squeal, your eyes shutting tightly.

“Thank you, sir! T-Thank you so much.” You confessed breathily. He let out a loud chuckle, immediately speeding up the pace again. Sounds of skin clapping overpowering your very loud moans.

“And tell me how much you love this dick, hmm? How much you love when I feed it to you…niiiice and slow, juuust like this.” He spoke lowly, reaching up to smack your cheek a few times as he continued to plow into you.

“Yessss, I love it! I-I love it soo much sir!” You whined, cheeks burning from the little smacks he gave you.

“Now, apologize. For being a bad girl all this time.” He spoke lowly, sending you deep strokes right into your sweetspot.

“Mmm, im sorry! Im so-so sorry, sir!” You cried, tears blurring your vision. You were so close. The experience was too intense for you, and you just had to let go.

“Oh my-, I-Im gonna cum.” You whined, voice rippling from his thrusts. You let your head hang back, as loud moans escaped your lips. He was close too, just from looking at you fall apart for him.

He began to kiss your exposed chest, holding you up by your back as he rutted into you. “Cum on daddy’s dick. Go ahead, babygirl.” He moaned, watching your eyes roll back. Your legs began to twitch around his torso. You finally came undone, letting out an intense cry. His cream coated cock being revealed with each stroke.

“Juuust like that. Keep squeezing me like that!” He spoke breathily, his eyes rolling in pleasure as his thrusts lost their rhythm. With one last stroke, he came deep inside of you with a loud growl. He rolled his hips, ensuring that his seed made it to your empty womb, worrying about the consequences later.

“Fuuuck, babygirl!” He grunted, thrusting into you languidly as droplets from his huge load found their way to ground.

You both let out heavy pants, trying desperately to come down from your highs. Sweaty bodies finding refuge in each-others arms as you held one another close.

“About this being the last time…I lied baby girl.” He whispered in your ear, still pumping into you slowly. You both seemed to be on one accord, finally. Because you weren’t letting him go, no matter what.

“So did I…”

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @st-cass @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @slay-nt @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @skxawngmia @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

#avatar #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar loak #loak headcanons #loak x reader #loak x y/n #loak smut #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam headcanons #jake avatar #jake x y/n #jake x reader #jake sully

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lev1hei1chou · 8 months

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Why i believe Gojo could come back

This chapter left us in a devastated state and was absolutely uncalled for, but I personally believe this isnt the end of the strongest sorcerer. There are several reasons as to why (These are just opinions, I could be wrong in certain areas AND personal feelings might make an occassional appearance.)

LEAKS:

This whole panel was obviously made for a reason. And we dont see gojo making a decision. Considering the fact that this is literally THE Gojo Satoru, he's more likely to choose north since there's numerous things left as plot holes. We'll get to that.

Here in this page, he mentions that Toji should've cut his head off to actually kill him. In the leaks, whats cut off is his upper body but not the head! I still can't quite wrap my head around RCT but lets say he's not able to heal himself. You know who can and who would? Yuta and Shoko

Now moving on

"Gojo then bids farewell to everyone." If hes truly gone then why would he be bidding farewell to the fallen comrades? If he's dead then isn't he supposed to stay in the afterlife with them?

Pretty self explanatory

What if Kashimo is going in to distract Sukuna while Shoko and Yuta can heal Gojo?

Now think about this. Gojo is gone, Shoko doesnt fight and who are all left? A bunch of sorcerers who are literally under 20, need guidance and we havent really seen any panel where they actually plan how they're going to go about in the whole battle. Gojo isnt a want, hes a NEED, a NECESSITY.

Remember, Toji who was dead long ago pretty much appeared out of nowhere in Shibuya Arc LMAO so- yes

WHAT IS THIS EVEN SUPPOSED TO MEAN

Theres no way Gojo would be left sealed for 3 whole years, brought him back just to kill him off in the most disrespectful way possible.

Besides, things that Gojo wanted to do haven't happened yet.

He wanted to tell megumi about his father

He wanted to see his students surpass the strongest sorcerer, aka him

He wanted to get rid of the higher ups

He wanted to properly mourn suguru (for which kenjaku has to be defeated but oh well)

He wanted to save Megumi

How'd we know what Gojo said here.

On to the other aspects of why killing off Gojo was a bad idea. We barely ever saw what happened to him, and an off screen death to the so called strongest sorcerer is just senseless. Gojo is a fan favourite. People started watching the show for Gojo (myself included) and there's a high possibility of multiple people dropping the manga since he isn't even there anymore.

The ending could take a turn for the worse considering the fact that Sukuna is just overpowered and Kenjaku hasn't done anything as of now. Unless there's some heavy plot armor I dont think the students even stand a chance against Sukuna and Kenjaku. Both outcomes- the students and others emerging as victors or sukuna emerging as a victor could make the ending absolutely terrible and this might as well top AOT for being the manga with the most disliked ending.

Gojo Satoru is the mentor for multiple; for Yuji, Nobara, Megumi, Yuta, Maki, Panda, Toge and the third years and its necessary for them to have someone to teach them. It is one of Satoru's wishes to see his students surpass him, which can happen only when he's there since there's nobody else who is actually capable of teaching them and leading them into the world as actual graduated sorcerers.

So Gojo dying will make the manga take a turn for the worse. Killing him off in the middle makes absolutely no sense and is just plain bad writing. People are prolly gonna kill me for this but lets admit the truth. Hyping this battle, building up tension just to finish him off screen is NOT good writing.

Anyways. There is factual proof of Gojo potentially making a return. Maybe at a cost, like him losing his power, losing his "strongest" title or anything else. He may not even be the same anymore but honestly as long as he's back, I'm fine.

It happened previously, and could happen again.

Satoru Gojo may not be the strongest and the honoured one, but may be reborn as a newer version of himself after getting humbled. Lotuses, as mentioned above symbolise rebirth, which is why i believe this is not the end.

A small bit of advice for gojo fans: Go watch haikyuu or highschool babysitters as a form of self care <3

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deskofninak · 2 months

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Unexpected Saviour // Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader

Summary: Reader makes the reckless decision to rescue Mattheo from the Malfoy Manor during the War.

Notes: Slight angst and fluff, sort of hurt/comfort, Mattheo is a damsel in distress and reader in the knight in invisibility cloak.

Word count: 878 words

Masterlist

Happy reading! :)

You shivered in the dark, your breath coming fast and shallow. This was a terrible idea by all accounts and yet, you had to find him. You might not be best friends with Mattheo Riddle but after all these months of a tentative friendship, you knew he wanted out. So you would get him out. Although apparating into Malfoy Manor to do it was by far one of the worst ideas you’d ever had.

You weren’t entirely sure where you were in the Manor, somewhere in the grounds, but this was what you had stolen Harry’s invisibility cloak for. Harry would be very angry, and angrier when he realised where you’d gone, they all would be, but you’d apologise and they’d eventually forgive you. But you were not going to sit by and watch Riddle get involved in a war he did not want.

Gripping the cloak tighter around yourself, you headed indoors. This was mad, beyond mad, and you felt yourself trembling at the thought of encountering one of the Malfoys or Fenrir or, Merlin, even You Know Who himself. You steeled yourself with the thought of Mattheo’s tear-stained face, the one time he’d let you through his walls, and you let it fuel you enough to go up the stairs and to the bedrooms.

The Manor was quiet. It was night and they were probably asleep or maybe they were scheming somewhere. Nevertheless, the quiet made it easier to creep around and listen for anyone heading your way. Cringing as you checked each bedroom, you stopped short when you came to the door at the end. You hoped this one was his because you had not entirely prepared for the eventuality that you might not find him.

You didn’t need to worry though, for as you eased the door open and poked your head in, there he was: curled up in bed with his mop of curls sticking out of the blanket, one hand outstretched towards the astrology book you’d given him that now perched on the nightstand. You slipped inside, closing the door behind you, and surveyed the room first before pulling the cloak off yourself.

Walking over to the bed, you knelt and tugged the blanket just the slightest to reveal his face to you. His scar stood out prominently in the moonlight, stark against the soft of his face, delicate eyelashes brushing his cheeks. He looked paler though, and leaner, too, and your worry for him quadrupled. You reached forward, pushing back the curl that had dropped over his forehead and whispered his name.

It took a minute for his eyes to flutter open, latching onto your figure. He muttered your name, brow furrowing in confusion, sleep heavy in his eyes. That lasted only a moment though before he registered where you were and that you weren’t a dream. He bolted upright, panic evident in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he whispered harshly.

The anger came quickly as he leapt out of bed, grabbing you before you could respond and pulling you away from the door further into the darkness of the room. “What-” His fury, warring with worry, kept the right words out of his grasp.

“I came to get you,” you whispered.

“Get me? Are you insane? Do you realise where you are?”

“Mattheo, let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”

He seemed to snap back into himself and let go. “He will kill you,” he said, desperation lacing his voice.

“He will kill you,” you responded. “Come with me. I’ve got an invisibility cloak, we’ll disapparate, the Order will find you a safehouse.”

“This is insanity.”

“No, it isn’t! I am not leaving you here with them. With him.” Your hand reached up, ghosting over the scar on his cheek and he shuddered.

He whispered your name like a prayer. “He will be angry. He will hurt someone.”

“He’s going to hurt people irrespective of where you are.”

“Why are you doing this?” He looked at you, eyes brimming with tears that silently pleaded with you to leave.

There was no point holding your cards to your chest anymore. “Because I love you.” Damn the consequences, you surged forward and tugged his face to yours, lips meeting in the middle. It was a quick kiss but it seemed to freeze time. Mattheo had gone completely still and a tear escaped, running down his cheek.

“I love you,” you repeated, “and I don’t care what you say, I am not leaving here without you.”

He huffed and before you could continue with your pleas, he drew you to him, mashing your lips together. His were soft against yours and it eased something in you to know that he was safe in your arms. Your hands cradled his face as his wound around your torso, leaving not an inch of space between the two of you.

When you drew apart, there were tears on his face and you gently wiped them away. “I don’t think I’m that bad at kissing.”

Mattheo laughed under his breath, drawing you back to him again and burying his face in your shoulder. “I love you, too.”

You blinked back tears and ran your fingers through his curls. “I’m getting you out of here.”

xxx

Hope you enjoyed this! If you see a typo, let me know. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. :) - Nina

#harry potter #mattheo riddle #x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #harry potter x reader #mattheo riddle hurt/comfort #x reader hurt/comfort #mattheo riddle x reader hurt/comfort #harry potter fanfic #slytherin boys

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 4 months

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hi it's the good omens mascot here's some shit about me that might be relevant

I appear to have accidentally caused chaos so I figured you might as well know about me since I'm responsible for it. And also so that you know who you broke, thanks ineffable fandom.

I have been called the prophet by some of you all. This is not entirely untrue, but I would like to add as I did in one post, that Apollo also gave me the curses of art, (very emotional) music, (sometimes good mostly dreadful) poetry, (same parentheses apply, except that the dreadful is on purpose) writing and (used to be good now dreadful) medical knowledge, and so yes, you did accidently adopt a messenger of an ancient Greek god.

Yes, this entire entry into your cult happened from start to now happened in 48 hours.

This will seem less bizarre when I give you context about me and fandoms. I changed career paths (after three years of intense study that cost me my sanity) from science to the arts because I was inspired by drarry fanfiction of them leaving their ministry jobs and following their dreams. Yes I tossed three years and my loss of sanity away in one week of decisions. I'm now a designer. Thanks Draco.

I read so much drarry fanfiction that my mum had to take me to the hospital for injured wrists. I wore wrist and elbow supports and was in constant pain for a few months. I was only later introduced to autoscroll. Yes, I am a fool. Yes, I am unaware of how to human.

I'm broke and cheap enough that I feel guilty buying bottled water, but for Christmas I spent the equivalent of around 150 bottles of water getting a Bakewell tart custom made (they don't sell them where I live). Why? Because in one single fanfiction, it is Draco's favourite food. I would never spend that kind of money on a dessert for any real human being.

That is to say, you all are not ready for when I REALLY fall for Crowley. I don't saunter vaguely downwards for people. I bypass earth and crash into hell, leaving a smoking pit in its infernal ground.

I swear I'm not as dumb as I seem, I just have ZERO general knowledge, and am terrible with faces. I can tell you what the graffiti on the walls of Pompeii from before 70 AD said but I don't know who my previous president was, and personally I think that's very classy of me.

Some of you seem concerned about my sleep schedule. Worry not, I sleep in four installments, night, morning nap, afternoon nap, evening nap. I sleep more than you all, that I can promise. I sleep more than my doggy sister.

About the streams and the timezones, I have no idea how to make it so people can watch, because I frequently mix up east and west and last morning I mixed up the Pacific and Atlantic ocean. I don't know at what point the Eastern hemisphere becomes the Western or how any of it works. I also thought Wakanda was a real place.

But hey fun fact, in 2020 diclofenac sales were dropping in Iceland. I know this because I wanted to make sure to use the correct painkiller in one sentence of a story I was writing. It was completely irrelevant. But hey any of you writers here probably feel my pain. I don't write fanfiction, but I am an author and I write original stories. And honestly what is more useful, Icelandic diclofenac sales from three years ago or timezones?

A career test once told me to be a standup comedian.

Yes that's me Asmi, just your regular dumbass lad who is slightly unhinged, serving himbo twink energy, hello hi nice to meet you all. PS: the poll results are out and Doctor Who won, so tremble, DW fandom.

#good omens fandom #good omens mascot #asmi #weirdly-specific-but-ok #this is me y'all #good omens brainrot #thanks for breaking me i figured you should know about me #crowley #just crowley i'm going to shatter soon #drarry #draco malfoy #fandom culture #fandom things #doctor who #dw fandom #more inaccurate summaries coming up #good omens #fanfiction #and how it ruined and saved me

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ghouljams · 1 month

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thinking about how johnny asks moon to be his wife as soon as they meet 😭

i just wanna know so bad how would the guys react if their lil crush actually agreed

like soap asks moon for her hand in marriage and shes just like ok sure

actual marriage or does soap just go straight to dating status instead

You give that man an inch and he'll take a mile.

Soap spots you for the second time in as many weeks across the bar. The only decent pub near campus, and thus the only place he and the 141 scurry off to. Apparently the only place you know to hide out as well. He feels a little guilty abandoning his mates, but they'll understand. (Understand that he's pining and you're smart enough to know better) Again you don't even look up when he takes the seat next to you.

"Tennessee," He greets, tapping the bar for a pint. You glance at him with a sigh.

"Doctor," You correct, and he can't help the smile that takes over his face. You're just so pretty, sweet little accent and round vowels making him want to pinch you.

"Mrs. Mactavish," He offers instead. You roll your eyes and sip your drink. Not beer this time, it's a short glass with neat amber liquid tipping against the side. "Whiskey?"

"Bourbon," You mumble.

"You'd get on with Ghost, couple of good ol' boys," Soap mutters, giving a half hearted sniff at the offending liquid. You smile against the rim of your glass, your teeth catching the edge in a way that Soap can't help but find charming. It's like you're trying to hide that he could have any affect on you.

"Maybe I should be talking to him instead," You set your glass down, glancing around the bar. Something in Soap's chest burns, his ears hot as he settles a hand on your knee and leans close to catch your eye.

"Ah saw ya first," He tips his head, watching the way you lean back to avoid bumping him, pretty thing, pretty pretty thing, "Ah dinnae ken if ah could give ya up."

You hum, pluck his hand off your knee and set it on the bar. Those few seconds of holding your hand leave him wanting, every spare molecule of your touch buzzing when you let him go. "I'm not interested in dating coworkers," You tell him firmly.

"Was thinkin' of somethin' closer to marriage actually."

You laugh, a mirthful sound that makes Soap want to shiver. Oh you stupid pretty thing, you don't believe him do you? "That's funny, you're funny," You signal for the bartender to refill your glass. Soap raises his fingers to double it.

"What's funny about it?" He leans against the bar, crowding you in to your seat, forcing you to keep your attention on him.

"You wantin' to marry me." Your voice raises ever so slightly at the end, question as much as statement. He wonders if you believe your own doubts, or if you're just that used to shooting people down. Soap tips his head, and you mirror the motion, your fingers grip your glass and bring the recently refilled amber to your lips. Soap traces the path of your tongue over your lips, the way you catch each drop of bourbon without so much as a flinch, his eyes trained on the motion with reverence.

"You want me to get on one knee?" He offers. You shake your head with a roll of your eyes, back to sipping your drink and ignoring him. It almost gives him an idea. "How many of those are you havin' tonight?" He nods at your glass as you settle it on the bar.

It takes a lot to get you drunk, a fact you're particularly proud of, but that also means once you're there it takes very little to start making terrible decisions.

Your head is pounding when you wake up. You ignore that the sheets feel funny in favor of rubbing your fingers against your eyes. A quick wince when you bump something metal makes you draw your hand away to inspect the ring on your finger. A diamond bracketed by two rubies. Gold. You don't wear gold.

"What the fuck?" You mumble, trying to piece together the gap of memory you have in your night. Johnny pops his head into the bedroom and gives you a smile. You narrow your eyes at him, trying to manage anger around the splitting headache. You sit up, or attempt to, as he saunters into the room, and just as quickly grab the sheets to pull them back up over your bare chest.

"Please tell me we didn't fuck," You grit, closing your eyes against the sunshine he draws into the room.

"Course not," Johnny's fingers find your jaw, tipping your head back, "wouldnae take advantage of ya like tha'." You keep your eyes shut tight even as relief courses through you. God you can't think of anything worse than sleeping with your coworker before the semester has even started. "Did get married though," Johnny fills in, giving you a peck of a kiss before pulling away, "be careful with the ring, yeah? Family heirloom an' all that."

Ok. One thing worse than sleeping with your coworker before the semester has started.

#cod x reader #x reader #x oc #cod x oc #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #soap x reader #professor au #oc: moon

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gigabyte-flare · 8 months

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He Comes Alive (Part 1)

Summary: Dropping out of college and moving back in with your parents is embarrassing when you live in a small town, where news and rumors spread fast. You have a chance encounter with a man that just moved into town, not realizing your life is about to get a lot more exciting.

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, implied kidnapping, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A/N: It was only a matter of time before I did a vampire au. I wanted to do a twist on Las Plagas where it turns people into vampires, also I was very much inspired by @nexysworld's vampire!Leon bot (which is excellent huehuehue). This fic takes place in the late 1980s, so canon stuff is completely thrown out the window so if that's not your thing, kindly move along.

Oakvale is a fictional town nestled in the heart of New Hampshire's White Mountain region and based heavily on my own experience growing up in small town New England. Shout out to my fellow New Englanders! 🥰

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

Title inspired by Jason performed by The Midnight

Line break Divider by cafekitsune

You stand at the end of the walkway leading up to your childhood home in Oakvale, New Hampshire, holding your luggage in one hand. You take deep breaths, preparing yourself for a nasty welcome home. You can still hear your father’s rage filled voice from your phone call a few days prior. You had decided to drop out of college. You were failing your classes and you couldn’t cope with hectic college life. Your mom, on the other hand, while disappointed in your decision, understood that this was your choice and that you were an adult now.

You had gone to college at the University of Illinois majoring in accounting under your father’s strict guidance in hopes that you would graduate and then run the finances for his car repair business. He was only going to help pay for college if you majored in accounting, so you had agreed begrudgingly. You were terrible at math and hated working with numbers, it was no wonder you were struggling.

You collect your thoughts, exhale loudly and approach the front door, wheeling your luggage behind you. You stand before the front door, giving it a few light knocks. You hear movement inside the house and the sound of your mother yelling down that she is coming. The front door opens and you’re greeted with your mother’s smiling face; a very welcome sight, beating the alternative.

“Sweetheart!” your mom exclaims, wrapping her arms around you, “how was your flight?”

“It was alright, I was able to sleep most of the way,” you reply as your mom leads you into the house.

You glance into the living room as you walk into the house, seeing your father watching the weather channel. He won’t even look at you or acknowledge you. Your mom sees the distress in your face. She stands in front of you, grasping your arms gently.

“Pay him no mind, sweetie, I’ve given him strict instructions to not talk about college with you. Give him time, he’ll get over it,” your mom lets go, continuing to lead you to your bedroom, “he needs to understand that you are an adult and can make your own decisions. He knew going into this that you hated math, it’s his own fault for pushing you so hard.”

You're comforted by your mother’s words as the two of you reach the precipice of your bedroom. She opens the door for you and you are met with your childhood bedroom, exactly how you left it before you went off to college three years ago: floral bedding, light pastel pink walls, matching white furniture and boy band posters and polaroids of you and your friends attached to the walls. You make a mental note to redecorate, but that can wait until later.

Later that evening, you join your parents in the dining room for dinner. Your Mother made your favorite: pasta in tomato sauce with kielbasa, squash and zucchini. Despite the fact it was late September, the family garden was still providing fresh vegetables. At first, you all eat in silence; you don’t dare make eye contact with your father. He seems to be too absorbed in the newspaper anyway. After agonizing minutes of silence, your father finally speaks to you for the first time since you came home.

“I got you a job at the gas station, you start Monday.”

You stop mid-bite, looking at your father dumbfounded before glancing at your mother, who smiles at you. He’s referring to the one gas station in town, just on the edge of town leading to the highway.

“Th-Thank you, Dad… that’s very kind of you…” you say before continuing your meal.

All the while, you hear the TV that’s still on in the living room, playing the news, “Fish and Game is still searching for 25 year old Alicia Walker, who hasn’t been seen since Wednesday when she told her family she’d be hiking up Mt. Lafayette--”

“Oh dear… they still haven’t found that hiker, Mick?” your mom says, looking over at your father.

Your father shakes his head in dismay, “nope. Seems to be happening a lot lately, that’s the third hiker in about a month, too.”

“Hikers are going missing?” you chime in before chewing your food.

“Unfortunately. That’s what happens when you go hiking in the Notch unprepared. Promise me you’ll never hike alone,” your father says to you in a stern tone.

“Of course, Dad, I’m not stupid.”

“Good,” your father replies with a nod before he continues eating, “pasta’s delicious Sandi.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

The weekend goes by in a flash and, before you know it, it’s Monday; your first day at your new job at the gas station. It’s an easy enough job, just working the cash register as people come in to buy things and get gasoline for their vehicles. What your father had failed to tell you, however, is that he got you the late shift: 6:00pm to midnight. The day shift person, an older woman named Peggy, who also trained you briefly, let you know that police officers often stop in at night to check on things, giving you some comfort. Oakvale wasn’t a bad town by any means, but this gas station was also close to the highway; anyone could come in.

That is made apparent when the chief of police himself stops in around 10:00pm, Chief Robert Dion, but most people in town just call him Chief Bob or just Chief. He was a burly man with a large mustache that he used wax to curl the ends; he almost looks like a cartoon character. His hair and beard are starting to show his old age. You recall he’s a nice man; you smile at him from behind the cash register as he walks through the door.

“Chief Bob! Long time no see!”

“Well, hey there little lady! Mick told me you were working at the gas station now! When did you get back into town?”

“Friday afternoon. I’m… not cut out for college, I guess…” you reply, your tone becoming morose.

“Hey! Don’t get down! Take some time to yourself and try again.” he says, leaning up against the counter on one arm.

“Thanks Chief. What’s the latest gossip in town? I’m sure I’ve missed a ton in three years.”

“Mostly about those missing hikers. I’m sure you heard--”

The sudden roar of a motorcycle cuts him off as a Harley Davidson motorcycle pulls up to one of the pumps outside before cutting the power. You watch from your peripheral vision as the driver gets off the bike. You draw your attention back to Chief Bob.

“As I was saying… I’m sure you heard about the missing hikers.”

You nod, “yeah, it was on the news when we were having dinner on Friday.”

You hear the electronic chime on the door go off as someone walks in and that’s when your eyes settle on what is quite possibly the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen in your life. Tall, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, wearing a leather jacket with worn denim jeans and work boots. Chief Bob moves out of the way to let the man come to the register. Your heart can’t help but race in your chest as your eyes are locked on the man.

“Can I get $5 on pump uh…” the man leans to look out the window at the number of the pump he parked at outside, “four?”

“S-Sure, of course! $5 please,” you reply, kicking yourself internally for stuttering.

The man pulls his wallet out from his back pocket, setting down a five dollar bill. Your eyes drift to his hands to check to see if he’s wearing a wedding band on his left ring finger; you don’t see one. Shifting your gaze back up, you see that his eyes are suddenly locked on yours; he gives you a playful smirk and winks before he turns to walk out.

“You’re out awfully late,” Chief Bob says to the man as he walks by.

“Had some errands to run. Take care Chief,” the man replies before walking back outside to fill his bike.

Your eyes are once again locked on the man before Chief Bob’s voice draws your attention back, “I think that’s the guy that bought ol’ Archie Mason’s place about a month ago.”

Archie Mason. Now that’s a name you haven’t heard in a while. You knew him as Mr. Mason, a curmudgeon of a man that lived on a dead end road in the woods by himself in town. As kids, you’d dare each other to go to his house, knock on his front door and see who could run the fastest before getting caught. Mr. Mason hated children.

“When did Mr. Mason die?” you ask as you get the $5 bill the handsome man gave you into the cash register.

“I think… two years ago? The house finally went through probate and was sold. That guy moved in and has been fixing it up ever since. Usually see him at Rocky’s.”

Rocky’s is a hardware store in Oakvale, a popular spot for all the younger and middle aged men in town, right up there with Moe’s bar, which was conveniently right next door to the hardware store. You hear Chief Bob talking to you still, but you can’t focus. Instead, your attention is on the mystery man pumping gas into his motorcycle, your heart all aflutter.

You wake up around 9:30am Wednesday morning, shuffling over to your closet to put on some clothes. Afterwards, you go into the bathroom to fix your hair, brush your teeth and put your makeup on. All the while, you can hear your father hard at work in the garage on someone’s car through the various open windows in the house. You decide to pay him a visit after you get yourself put together.

You go outside, walking over to the adjacent auto repair shop, stopping to glance up at the sign hanging off the building: Mick’s Auto Repair. Every business in town had this unspoken rule that their business had to have their name in it; Mick’s Auto Repair, Rocky’s Hardware, Moe’s Bar and Grille, Sally’s Sew Shop, just to name a few. You continue walking, walking into the shop through the open garage door.

“Hey Dad!” you call out, looking around before seeing your father’s legs sticking out from under the car he’s working on.

You watch as he rolls out from under the car, his face, clothing and hands covered in oil stains. He looks up at you, his eyes squinting from the sun leaking into the garage.

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. Mason had died.”

“Oh… yeah… died in his sleep. The old fart was 92. Didn’t really come as a shock to anyone.” your dad replies, rolling himself back under the car.

“Do you know anything about the guy that bought the house?” you continue to pry, crossing your arms as you look down, addressing your father’s feet.

“Yeah, his name’s Leon, I think. Moved in from D.C. if I heard right. What about him?”

“Oh… nothing… he came into the gas station the other night…” you reply, your voice trailing out as the butterflies stir up in your gut thinking about him.

Leon… that suits him, you think to yourself.

“Now don’t you go getting any ideas, the last thing you need right now, young lady, is to be distracted by some boy. He’s too old for you anyway-- oh fuck!” your father curses as you hear something snap from under the car, rolling back out with a broken wrench in his hand.

“That’s not good,” you comment, watching as your father shoots you a glare.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, “can you run over to Rocky’s real quick and get me another one? I’d go but I’m caked in oil. Don’t need Rock yelling at me for tracking oil into his store again. I’ll pay you back.”

“Sure, no problem! I’ll be right back!” you say, heading back into the house to grab your purse from your bedroom.

You grab the broken wrench from your father so you make sure to get the right one and head out. The hardware store is about a 15 minute walk from your house, so you decide to just walk, enjoying the crisp hair and sun of early fall. Coming upon Rocky’s Hardware, you step inside, a bell hanging off the door ringing as you walk in.

“Well, well, well! If it isn’t Mick’s little girl! How’s it going, sweetheart?” Rocky says from the cash register.

Rocky is another older man, medium build with a head full of gray hair and a big, bushy gray mustache.

“Hey Rocky!” you reply as you pull your father’s broken wrench from your purse, “Dad broke another wrench, sent me to get another one for him.”

“Jesus… they don’t make them like they used to, do they? Aisle 6 dear, on the left.” Rocky says, gesturing into the store.

“Thanks Rock,” you say before proceeding to the aisle in question; however, when you turn to walk down the aisle, you stop dead in your tracks.

Leon, the man from the gas station the other night, is standing in the aisle looking at hardware, which is on the opposite side of the tools. You stand there, staring at him like an idiot, your heart pounding in your throat. As if sensing your presence, the man turns to you, giving you that same smirk from the other night.

“You’re that cute girl from the gas station,” he says; it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

He remembered you. He also called you cute, making your stomach twist in anxiety.

“Y-Yeah…” you manage to say before working up the courage to walk into the aisle to look at the tools.

Leon’s eyes stay on you as you approach, watching as you draw your attention to the tools.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a hardware store?” he asks playfully, you can hear him smirking as he moves to stand next to you.

“Oh… my Dad broke his wrench. He asked me to get him another one.” you reply, trying desperately not to let your nerves get the better of you as you show Leon the broken wrench.

“Oh dear! Let’s see…” Leon starts as he looks up at all the different tools, reaching up to grab one of the wrenches hanging off the display, “this one looks like the same wrench, here you go.”

Leon hands you the new wrench, his fingers lightly caressing yours as he pulls his hand away, a gesture that is not missed by you. You feel your cheeks flush as you tuck the broken wrench back into your purse.

“Thank you mister…?”

“The name’s Leon Kennedy. But please, just call me Leon.” he replies, making eye contact with you, “what’s your name?”

You pause for a moment before you practically stutter your name out. You watch as Leon smiles at you, his eyes taking you in as he looks up and down at you.

“That is a lovely name,” he says, the compliment hitting you straight into your core; you feel your panties become slick.

“Th-Thank you… you have a nice name, too.”

Leon gives you a gentle pat on your shoulder, “I gotta go pay for my stuff. Hopefully we can see more of each other, yeah?”

You stare at him in awe for a moment before nodding, “Yes! I… I’d like that, too…”

He gives you a wink before he turns to walk out of the aisle and up to the cash register, where you hear him make small talk with Rocky. You are frozen in place in a desperate attempt to calm yourself down. You wait until you hear the bell on the door ring before you go up to the register to pay for the new wrench.

You couldn’t get home fast enough, your entire being a bundle of nerves. Once you get home, you walk through the open garage door to give your father the wrench. You find he’s not in the garage, so you walk back into the house, only to find him standing in front of the TV in the living room, watching the news.

“Dad, I got the wrench--” you begin to say as you cut yourself off, seeing there’s a breaking news report playing on the TV, “what’s wrong?”

Your father turns to you, his look is forlorn, “another hiker went missing, they were last seen Monday.”

That night, after getting home from your shift at the gas station, you toss and turn in bed, unable to get comfortable. You can’t get Leon off your mind. Tossing your comforter off you, you lay on your back, propping your legs up and spread them as your right hand dips under the hem of your underwear, your fingers finding your clit to rub slow circles into it.

As you lose yourself to your own pleasure you moan Leon’s name softly, closing your eyes to picture the way his beautiful blue eyes looked up and down your body earlier today, the way his jeans hugged his slender hips. You could almost smell his leather jacket. Your fingers pick up the pace on your clit, causing your hips to buck into your fingers as you chase your high, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning loudly.

You turn your head towards your windows, slowly opening your eyes, only for your breath to be caught in your throat as you spot a pair of glowing red eyes peering into your window. You watch as the eyes suddenly dart away from the window, thumping sounds quickly following. You quickly pull your hand out from your underwear and practically jump out of bed to your window, throwing it open to look out. You look around, seeing nothing in the darkness. Your bedroom is on the second floor, it couldn’t have been a person. People don’t have glowing red eyes.

You take deep breaths, realizing your thoughts are only psyching yourself out. It was just your imagination in the heat of you getting yourself off, you decide, before you shut your window, locking it. Just in case. You walk back over to your bed, collapsing into it, your arousal having been scared out of you, so you quickly drift off to sleep.

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader smut #vampire!leon kennedy #plagas!leon kennedy #gigabyte writes #he comes alive

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