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bakubunny · 6 months

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um- if no one asked i would like you to hear those hc’s on izuku and shinso 🙄 (tenya and tokoyami too if that’s not asking for too much😔)

not too much for sure, i’m having a lot of fun with this. ask away. 🖤 tried to chill a little bit on some of the sizes bc i’m tryna have mercy on some of y’all.

eat up @cheffuckboyrdee @neon-gothicc.

repeating the disclaimer that i know it’s not realistic for every guy ever to be above average but it’s my (dick) party and i’ll drool over them if i want to.

midoriya

size is 6.5” long and 6.25” girth, he’s longer than average, shorter than the others i’ve mentioned so far and it’s thickkkk. BUT

i’m a little undecided on him bc my brain says “i want to throat pro!deku’s dick while he uses me until head empty,” but my heart says, “canonically he’s got the fattest dick hands down, *maybe* after kiri.” and we’ve already discussed kiri, we know no one is taking his dick down their throat. so my hcs on izuku’s (and sometimes kiri’s) size fluctuate a bit. 😅

curved upward, very veiny, bit of a mushroom head. fairly even girth but widest at the base. heavy balls.

clean shaven for the most part except maybe a soft green patch and a cute lil happy trail…. def not bc he’s into rimming and has his own dildos he wants to get pegged with.

goes crazy over teasing head and long hand jobs with edging but also has the desire to ruthlessly fuck your throat ngl. loves fucking your thighs.

also a fan of foreplay out of necessity. hence another reason why he’s such a big lover of giving head.

shinso

size is 7” long and just shy of 6” girth. he’s at that sweet spot imo where he’s big enough to feel huge inside and heavy when it hits your face but you’re not in a cold sweat just trying to take the whole thing.

even girth, mostly straight with a little bit of a curve to the left. some prominent veins but not a ton. he’s another one with pretty balls. 🫢

he’s got a cute purple happy trail at his belly button. 🥺 likes to stay trimmed but will clean up if you ask.

loves when you deep throat him and gets even harder if you struggle or gag. loves sloppy head & when you massage his balls.

many of the guys mentioned so far have nice softies, but his is particularly cute.

tokoyami

i am going to resist the urge to hc his size as 8-9”/6”ish and uncut even tho that’s what i feel deep in my soul abt this man. 😭 pro!fumi just has that vibe. i’m not trying to make them all the same, i promise.

size is 6.5” long and 5.5” girth. enough to leave you more than satisfied and bonus: finally someone who’s not too big for quickies whenever you want. (say you’re bratting a lil too much and next thing you know you’re bent over in a public bathroom. 🫢 or he just can’t wait to get you home. 🫢🫢)

uncut, straight, not v. veiny, even girth or widest at the base (i can’t decide), breeder balls. they’re heavy and pretty. typically clean shaven, little bit of a happy trail when he does let it grow.

if any of you lovelies remember this hc series, you might remember that i firmly believe fumi loves getting head.

likes any position that involves being really close physically or going as deep as possible.

iida

size is a bit over 6” long and 5” girth. he’s not the biggest of boys but he knows how to use it… with a little guidance. probably for the better that he’s not massive bc he likes to go hard and fast, but you can break him of that habit if you want.

cut, a little veiny, downward curve, and narrower at the base and wider at head. his balls are big in comparison to his dick.

likes having his perineum played with but was absolute shocked at how quickly he came from it the first time.

he can be dominant but he’s weak for pretty eyes, pretty lips, and tit jobs. let your tongue hang out and hold up your bare tits and he’s a goner.

todoroki

size is 6.5” long and a little under 5.5” girth. shower rather than a grower. he’s got a softie that hangs and it’s adorable.

hard upward curve, veiny, head that’s not too prominent but cut, slightly narrower at base and head. his balls match his size but they’re very sensitive. doesn’t always like them played with but sometimes it’s nice.

his body hair is half & half just like the hair on his head. 😭 generally very clean shaven but it’s so pretty when he lets that happy trail grow.

i can’t decide if he prefers handjobs or oral sex more but he whines like a damn baby when you edge him and he loves it.

#why all of you are reading these is kind of beyond me bc this is so cringe #but i’m glad ur along for the ride #there’s probably more i could do if you ask tbh #i’ve even thought through a few jjk characters #aged up characters #bnha smut #smut hcs #Tokoyami smut #todoroki smut #Iida smut #midoriya smut #shinsou smut #bakubunny #tokoyami fumikage #midoriya izuku #todoroki shoto #iida tenya #shinsou Hitoshi

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marvellousgifs · 5 months

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Thor Odinson in THOR: RAGNAROK (2017)

Look, I've spent years in a haze trying to forget my past. Sakaar seemed like the best place to drink and forget and to die one day. Well, I was thinking that you drink too much and that probably was gonna kill you. I don't plan to stop drinking. Oh. But I don't want to forget. I can't turn away anymore. So, if I'm gonna die, well it may as well be driving my sword through the heart of that murderous hag. Good. Yeah. So I'm saying that I wanna be on the team. Has it got a name? Yeah, it's called the... Revengers. Revengers? Because I'm getting revenge. You're getting revenge. And you're- Do- You- Do you wa- What do you- You want revenge? I'm, um, I'm un-undecided. Okay.

#thor: ragnarok #marveledit #mcuedit #thoredit #filmedit #thorragnarokedit #marvel #thor odinson #gifs #phase three

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inthelittlewood · 9 months

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um so I've got a question that certainly has nothing to do with my fear for the continued survival of various pirates but what would happen if c!Martyn happened to permanently die in any wor? Not necessarily just pirates

I get this question quite a lot, regarding perma death for c!Martyn

The honest answer is, I haven't decided what shape that will take on, or even IF that would even happen in the story just yet. Sometimes forward planning is nice for laying easter eggs and trickling world building in, but for elements as extreme as this, I've left them undecided so I can do what best fits my narrative needs later.

My mindset currently is that Doc has an awareness that he's the leading mind behind this Datastream human interfacing technology but as we've seen, it's incomplete. It's only known by a VERY small handful of others, but his results are leagues ahead of theirs currently. They have the catalyst code, a jumping off point but Doc has no insight on their progress. There's a growing concern as each day passes that C.H.E.S.T could be privy to it, or other nefarious web types. If they catch up or even surpass him, they could find malicious applications for the technology putting c!Martyn at greater risk

I guess the absolute extreme would be somebody finding a way to access and subsequently corrupt / delete the cached version of c!Martyn's biological scan from the moment he was transferred in. He's been turned in to 1's and 0's but Doc can't reverse the process just yet as building a human, well, that's a tricky job right?

Those last two paragraphs aren't hard canon though, it's more the "vibe" I'm feeling coming off the page and my bullet points at the moment. I know that's pulling the curtain back a bit but I've been enjoying the adaptive nature of this lore so far and letting people peer in to my thought process as I'm no kind of author, so this is all just for fun/practice

#itlwlore

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oftenwantedafton · 4 months

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Vent - Steve Raglan/William Afton/Springtrap x Female Reader

Chapters 4-6

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - mental health issues, no explicit content in these chapters

Also available on AO3 Chapter 4 | 5 | 6

Chapter 4 ~ the interview ~

Steve Raglan recognizes you.

It’s the strangest thing; when you’re first guided into his office, his welcoming voice is pleasantly neutral until he looks up from the paperwork on his desk and then the words of greeting trail off weakly. His eyes widen slightly behind the lenses of gold rimmed glasses, his lashes lifting briefly before they drop down once more. You’re convinced he’s definitely seen you before, though you can’t imagine where. The middle aged man doesn’t look familiar to you at all.

“Welcome, have a seat.” He recovers smoothly, gesturing at a vacant chair across from him.

You sit down, setting your backpack by your feet.

The bearded man opens a folder and glances at its contents, his eyes alternating between the pages and your face, his fingers tapping along the paper surface, as if he’s cataloguing something. The awkward silence lengthens and then he speaks again as if there’s been no lull. “So, I’ve got your contact information here. I understand you’re interested in a job at Freddy’s.”

You nod. “What positions are available?”

The career counselor spreads his fingers out. He talks a lot with his hands, you notice immediately; the long, well manicured fingers constantly in motion, punctuating each utterance. “Well, it really depends on where your interests lie and what your abilities are. The remodeling and construction will be done during the first couple of months, then training starts for the employees. We’re looking to get up and running by next spring.”

“We?”

“More accurately myself. Just speaking formally in the third person. I’m the sole proprietor.”

You blink in surprise. “You own it?”

“Yes.” He eases back into the swivel chair, slowly tapping a pen against his palm, studying your face. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself?”

“Um, I’m a senior. I turned eighteen this past summer.”

“References?”

“I babysit a lot. I’ve worked at a clothing store in the mall.”

“Experience with a cash register and with children, those are pluses.” He leans forward and marks something down on the paper in your folder. “Do you have a reliable source of transportation?”

“I typically walk everywhere or ride my bike, but my neighbor’s son is going away for college next year and he’s going to sell me his. That’s what I’ve been saving up for.”

“Potentially an issue with inclement winter weather in the near future, but I understand the mayor is planning on reinstating public transportation to the area, so…” Another mark. “What about your future goals? Plans for college? Do you see this as something temporary, or were you thinking about long term?”

Overwhelmed by the barrage of questions, you find yourself stammering your reply. “I…I’m not sure yet. I want to go, I’m just undecided about a major.”

Steve reaches for a glass dish set on the corner of his desk filled with hard candy, selecting one and making short work of the wrapper before popping it into his mouth.

“Help yourself.” He gestures to the sweets and you choose one, thinking it might be rude to decline, but don’t unwrap it yet.

You can hear the confectionery knocking against the man’s teeth as he rolls it with his tongue. “What would you say is your strongest subject in school? What are some of your hobbies?”

You fidget with the sleeves of your hoodie. “I don’t really excel at anything in particular. I enjoy English Literature and Art. I like writing and drawing.”

Raglan nudges the frames sliding down his nose absently, his gaze intent on your face. “What sorts of things do you write and draw?”

You shrug uncomfortably. You’re not used to talking about your interests with other people; not really used to anyone taking an interest at all. For a fleeting moment the yellow rabbit crosses your mind. “I do a lot of journaling. Drawing…I like animals, nature…I enjoy building models too….a bunch of different stuff, I guess,” you conclude lamely.

The older man hums thoughtfully, the pen now slack between his fingers, teeter tottering either end against the halfway filled page. “How would you describe yourself?” He begins to read off a list: “Motivated? Outgoing? Energetic? Team player?” He frowns, dropping the pen and focusing his attention on you. “I really hate these generic questionnaires. Just tell me in your own words. If you had to pick one word to describe yourself.”

“I…I guess I’m pretty introverted. I don’t really get along with people my own age.” You realize you’re not doing much to sell yourself for employment at a party themed restaurant and you hastily add, “I’m interested in the animatronics. I mean, I could do waitressing or food prep or whatever, but the behind the scenes stuff is what I’m really curious about,” you admit, surprising yourself. You’d never really given it much thought before now.

Steve abruptly leans forward, the motion reminding you of a cat pouncing on its prey. “Are you? Tell me more about that.”

“I don’t know. I want to understand how they function, I guess. Construction, maintenance. Everything. Not that I’m qualified for that, I know; but I’d be willing to learn.”

“A lot of engineering relies on the ability to think in the abstract. Piece together connections that aren’t immediately visible to the naked eye. Kind of like solving a puzzle but in three dimensions.”

You nod. “That’s what I find appealing.”

The diluted blue topaz irises continue to hold your gaze. “How interesting. Still waters run deep.”

You frown, puzzled.

“It means there’s more to you than meets the eye, basically. Quiet, withdrawn individuals tend to be grossly misunderstood.” He lifts the paper and slides in back inside the Manila folder. You hear the last dregs of the candy surrender to his teeth, crushed and pulverized between them. “You won’t be working at the front end. It would be an absolute waste of everyone’s time.”

“So…what does that mean?”

“Plan your schedule around having some afternoons and evenings busy by spring.”

“That’s it? I’m hired?”

His lips twitch, almost but not quite forming a smile. “Welcome on board.”

Chapter 5 ~ a warning ~

The front door of the pizzeria is no longer boarded up.

You slow your pace as you draw closer, cautiously studying the building, but you see no other signs that anything has been disturbed. You cup your hand and seat it against the glass front, trying to shield your eyes from the glare behind you to peer inside the restaurant. You can vaguely make out an archway just past the hostess’s podium, a checkerboard patterned floor, and a row of empty fifty cent prize machines, the candy and stickers and plastic toys long gone.

Your hand drifts down to rest on the door handle and you hesitate before pulling, not entirely expecting it to be unlocked, but the door swings open easily. It slams behind you after you venture inside, startling you.

The establishment’s interior is dim.

The light from outdoors can only reach so far. You hesitate on the verge of the dining room, eyes roving over the booths and tables. You can just barely see the curtained stage at the far end of the room, where the animatronics perform, now closed off from view by the heavy drapes.

“So you’ve returned.”

You jump again, heart thumping, head swiveling to find the source of the sound.

The yellow rabbit emerges from the shadows at the far end of the room, that tall figure weaving between the seating arrangements as if it is intimately acquainted with their placement. He stops with some distance still between you, leaning against a booth with a stained glass image of the restaurant’s lead mascot, folding his arms. The lit eyes are brighter today.

“You unbarred the door, right? Thank you.”

“No rain today. What’s the excuse this time? Or were you so charmed by our first conversation?” He sounds bemused, as if he’s enjoying some private joke.

“I…I came to tell you. They’re reopening the restaurant. So you should probably find somewhere else to stay.”

He laughs. “Child, I do not live here. And I’m well aware that it’s being restored to its former glory. Is that really what you came here for?”

You flush. “I’m not a child.”

“Barely past it.”

“I was trying to be nice. I thought I should warn you.”

The rabbit’s head tips thoughtfully. “You were genuinely concerned, weren’t you? Then I apologize for my abrasiveness. If it seems I’m ungrateful, it’s because I don’t have the opportunity to interact with others much. He does not let me out often.”

You frown but the strange creature does not elaborate.

“I’ve been hired to work here,” you say to break the sudden silence.

“And what will you be doing?”

“Working on the animatronics.”

“Interesting.” One steel cased finger taps along the forearm of the suit and something in the movement feels strangely familiar.

“Will you…will you be here? When the place reopens?”

You swear the figure is smiling now, impossible to see in the confines of the headpiece but oddly palpable in his speech. “Of course. I always come back.”

Chapter 6 ~ reflection~

The bathroom sink is full of water, the steady drops from the faucet into the plugged basin amassing into a clear pool inside the porcelain bowl.

William Afton stares at that liquid surface, at the ripples that disturb the calm with each drop, and he thinks about who he once was: a husband, a father. A successful business owner. An innovator. And how quickly those marked successes in life had been taken away one by one. How he’d exacted revenge for those losses, little by little, paid in blood.

He bends and plunges his hands into the cool water and splashes it over his face, as if can wipe away that identity so easily. Looking up at the mirrored medicine cabinet, the reflection there is the man he has been masquerading as, this Steve Raglan, Career Counselor. How tiresome the charade is, but needs must. It won’t be for much longer. Construction has proceeded ahead of predicted schedule. He’ll be able to start the employee training soon. He’d gotten a good response from the high school students. Cheap labor. A wise, economical decision he’d learned early on.

He blinks past the rivulets of water trickling over his face and it’s the yellow rabbit’s features he sees, the ravaged mascot staring back at him.

“That’s not why you chose her.”

William scowls. “Why did you let her back inside? Anyone could have gotten in.”

“No one did. No one has come near there for a long, long time.”

“She did.”

“That was incidental.”

“The first visit, maybe. Not the second time. She wanted to see you. She likes you.”

The rabbit shakes his head, his counterpart reflection doing the same. “She’s just a child.”

“On the verge of being an adult.”

The suited mascot leans closer, William’s own face now inches from the silvered surface. “She’s broken.”

“So am I.”

He laughs, the soft sound growing louder as it shakes free, the image in the mirror shifting back to the bearded’s man damp features.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #springtrap #fnaf fanfic #william afton #steve raglan #fnaf movie

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firefirefruit · 4 months

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Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Eight

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Eight: The One-Eyed Marimooo

The world’s spinning. You physically can’t breathe. This boy’s whooping in your ear, screaming, “LET’S GOOOOO!” over and over again.

Fucking great. This is it. The end of your journey.

You’re being dragged upwards, a body of limbs flailing from impact. Riding the worst escalator you’ve ever been on. Going up. Up. Up. Up. And up – until, finally, you’re nearing the tip of your ascent.

The moon swallows both of your shadows whole like a voracious celestial behemoth, hungry for the spectacle it's about to witness, and there’s this one second where you and Luffy turn to each other, both flailing in the air.

Just for one second, there’s silence. No whizzing of air or the flapping of bodies, no screams of terror echoing into the abyss – there’s just silence.

Then, you begin your descent.

As the two of you plummet towards the ship, the world speeds up in a dizzying blur of sea and stars and trees and darkness. Ice-cold fear courses through you, as you feel yourself steam in terror, and for a moment, time seems to stretch as if reluctant to witness the impending impact.

Great. This is the way you’re gonna die. Awesome. Well, thanks for everything, Gramps. You shut your eyes tightly, preparing for the sound of God to come thundering down on you.

“Here we go!” Luffy bellows, his voice fighting against the current of the wind. You snap your eyes wide open, undecided on whether to scream at Luffy or at death itself.

With a sudden twist, Luffy's rubbery limbs twang into action. He wraps his arms around you, forming a makeshift cushion against the gravitational pull – you can’t lie, it's a bizarre yet effective mid-air manoeuvre, and you can't help but marvel at the sheer fucking audacity of it.

The wind howls around you, and the world regains its chaotic symphony while Luffy's laughter cuts through the air, a mix of thrill and exhilaration.

And then, with a jarring but surprisingly gentle thud, you land on the Sunny's deck; it's as if gravity itself had a change of heart, deciding to be merciful at the last moment. The ship creaks under the sudden impact, but still, it holds firm beneath you.

Immediately disentangling yourself from Luffy's curling grasp, you stumble off into a direction, steaming with sheer terror and fury. Liquid nitrogen spreads from your feet like wildfire, chilling the Sunny into a post-apocalyptic landscape.

“Woah, woah, what’s goin’ on?” Franky exclaims, gaping at the smoke crackling across the Sunny’s body.

"THAT WAS AWESOME!" Luffy cheers wildly, his arms flinging into the sky. “Did you like it, Raya? Was it fun? You wanna do it again?”

You, on the other hand, are about to throw major hands.

"What. The. Hell, Luffy? What the actual fuck?” you seethe, each word punctuated by bursts of ice shattering beneath you.

"You’re tough, Swordsy. You took it well!" he grins, slapping you on the back with gusto. You stagger forward from the impact, each unintended step leaving frozen disc-like cracks into the floor.

“Raya! Stop moving!” Franky cries out, helplessly gaping at the glacial destruction of his beloved ship.

Arching an eyebrow at Franky's evident distress, Luffy shifts his gaze down to the deck. With a sudden yelp, he exclaims, "WOAH! Why's it snowing in this kinda weather?"

"It's not the weather, Luffy," Robin calmly remarks as she and the others begin boarding the ship. She observes you with a surprised curiosity. "It's Raya."

“But you’re a fire-user…” Sanji’s questions, a curious cigarette dangling in his mouth. His eyes flicker to the floor, staring at poor Franky who’s knelt over the damage, helplessly scraping his metal fingers through the mist. “Isn’t this liquid nitrogen?”

“Yeah, um…I ate the Burn-Burn fruit…” you quickly answer before looking down at Franky. Guilt washes over you as you realise the extent of the damage to his hard work. “I’m so sorry, Franky…I’ll fix this for sure.”

“Mmmh,” Franky responds miserably.

“What’s a Burn-Burn fruit?” Usopp pipes out, squidging his face in the small gap between Zoro and Robin.

Robin smiles at you, her eyes lighting up.

“You burn things?” Chopper cocks his head, crawling all over Zoro’s shoulders.

“Yeah – I mean, I’ve been using fire for my whole life, but I’ve recently been trying to…to burn things with ice…” your voice awkwardly falters when you and everyone else diverts their attention to the snowstorm on the floor, your face heating up – and because you’re aware that your face is heating up, your face starts to grow even hotter.

Fuck. You’ve been working on ice for months, and a single fucking fright leads you to unleashing frostbite hell. You knew it’d be too risky - especially with how closely your Burn’s tied to you and your feelings – but Gramps had insisted…

Well, at least you went with ice. At least you didn’t choose electricity…or, heaven forbid, chemicals…

You want to get stronger, don’t you? Gramps’ voice rings in your head like a persistent echo, urging you forward. Fear is a blockage of spirit.

You mutter to yourself, wondering how the hell to shut this man up in your head. It's a constant nagging now, always lecturing, always trying to sound deep and wise beyond his years and he's all so Wano-esque.

Maybe that's why Gramps doesn't complain anymore; he's living rent-free in your head, and he's probably loving every minute of it.

In a heartbeat, the urgent staccato of anxious heels reverberates against the wooden boards, instantly capturing everyone's focus.

"Out of my way!" Nami's commanding cry slices through the air, prompting Usopp and Chopper to emit startled yelps. They stumble away as a streak of vibrant orange hair charges through them like a bolt of lightning. "Raya! Are you okay?!"

"Absolutely," you respond with a wry smile, your sarcasm laced with a lingering adrenaline rush pulsing in your head. “Had a fantastic flight.”

Nami immediately swivels around to Luffy, seizing his head in a firm chokehold. “Don’t ever do that to people who aren’t part of your crew – you got that?”

Luffy, garbling in her grasp, still manages to force out a pout. “Wh – gah – why not?”

“I mean, it doesn’t look that bad…it kinda suits the atmosphere of my show, if you think about it ….” Usopp thinks to himself, tapping a finger to his chin. He stares at the ice cooling over the deck, then at Zoro straight in his eye. “Cold, brittle and painful to the touch. Juuust like the one-eyed marimooo.”

"Quit that," Zoro hisses, narrowing his eye at him. "I'm not here for your one-eyed marimo exposé."

Gramps Suki amusedly sighs whilst cleaning his hands with a rag. "Enough with the theatrics, already! Don’t you all have a party to host?”

“Yes! Let us commence!” Usopp shouts in his deep, theatrical voice, jumping on the stage with an air of intrigue and mystique. “Gather, my fellow comrades, and let us begin! Jester, play your most foreshadowing tune!”

Brook grins, and with a -- “Yo-ho-ho! I shall!” -- His fingers begin to strum dramatically across his guitar.

Luffy bursts into excited cackles, dashing to take a seat in front of the stage; Chopper's eyes light up with enthusiasm, and he tugs at Zoro's hair like Ratatouille. Zoro huffs, stumbling forward to gently place them both on the unaffected floor.

Usopp gestures everyone else to sit, and as they all obey his command, he raises his arms to begin.

Brook plays the opening to an intense heavy metal riff. Angular shadows crawl up onto Usopp's face like an army of black ants, moonlight shining a thin silvery trail across his silhouette. Then, he smirks.

“Now, let us unravel the story of the One-Eyed Marimo. Possessing three swords in his reservoir, he has no other room to consider fear…

“I don’t care what society says…” Usopp rasps in a Zoro’s low voice, his marked eye shut firmly as he scowls at the audience. “I’ve never regretted doing anything...”

The crew erupts into wild cackles, caught off guard by Usopp's spot-on impersonation of Zoro. Even Luffy’s rolling on the floor, clutching his stomach with laughter.

Nami shoots a playful glare at Zoro. "Well, it seems Usopp has you figured out!"

Zoro grumbles in response, feigning indifference, but there's a subtle twitch of amusement playing on his lips; Sanji, puffing away on his cigarette, can't help but grin at the accuracy of it all.

Usopp, revelling in the attention, continues the act with theatrical flair. "Strive to be complete with everything you have!" he mutters coarsely, mimicking Zoro's trademark three-sword stance. "No hesitation!"

In the midst of the laughter, Luffy, still rolling on the floor, manages to gasp out, "Let me have a go!"

With a burst of energy, Luffy propels himself off the floor and somersaults onto the stage, landing next to Usopp. His grin is infectious, and the crew watches in anticipation, wondering what kind of chaos Luffy's going to unleash this time.

"Alright, alright! Watch this!" Luffy declares, mimicking Zoro's posture with exaggerated seriousness.

Luffy slaps his hand to his forehead, his eye looking as narrowed and sharp as Zoro’s, scanning across the audience with apathy. Mimicking the marimo’s slouched posture and crossed arms, he lets out a half-hearted, "Mmmm. Where are those idiots? You idiots. Bastards. Stupid idiots.”

Nami, still holding onto Luffy's earlier attack on you, can't help but burst into laughter.

"You're an idiot yourself, Luffy," she remarks between fits of giggles.

Luffy continues with the impersonation, exaggerating Zoro's stern expression. "Why are we even doing this party thing? Shouldn't we be out training and getting stronger? You guys are all a bunch of slackers."

Zoro, trying to stop himself from smirking, mutters under his breath, "Idiot captain..."

Usopp, fake gasping, his hands slapped on each side of face, joins Luffy on the stage. "Hey, marimo, look! It's your fan club!"

Luffy continues his impersonation, now adding a comically serious tone, kissing his teeth dramatically. "TCH. I don't need a fan club. I'm just here because I want to be. TCH."

Nami, still holding her laughter from Luffy's antics, suddenly spots Chopper perched on Zoro's shoulder. With a devious grin, she strides over, seizing the opportunity for her own brand of amusement.

"I'm taking over, Swordsmen!" Nami declares with a sly grin, directing a mischievous gaze at Luffy and Usopp. With a swift motion, she grabs Chopper from Zoro's shoulder and cradles him in her arms, adopting the same serious expression Zoro has.

"I'm not a caring guy," Nami says, mimicking Zoro's gruff voice with surprising accuracy. "I don't have time for this fluffy stuff."

Despite her stern words, there's a playful glint in Nami's eyes as she proceeds to pretend to wash Chopper's back, combing through his fur like a loving father-figure. The crew watches, thoroughly entertained, as Nami continues the charade.

"I'm really not!" Nami insists, patting Chopper's head sweetly like he's a child. "Shut up, Chopper! I'm a marimo, not a babysitter!"

With a flourish, Nami pretends to spoon feed Chopper imaginary food, all while maintaining the serious demeanour of the marimo she's impersonating.

"Swallow your food like a man, Chopper!" she exclaims, channelling the essence of Zoro's gruff and no-nonsense attitude.

You burst into laughter, raising your eyebrow at Nami’s interpretation. “Didn’t know you were a father, marimo?"

"More like the guy who tells brats to stay off his lawn," Zoro retorts, slightly amused by Nami's depiction of him.

Chopper, for his part, seems to be enjoying the attention, giggling between bites of fake food as Nami continues her exaggerated impersonation.

"BUT WAIT!" Usopp roars, reclaiming the spotlight at the centre of the stage. "With every move he makes, with every swing of his swords, he bears every burden without a single complaint.. The glint in his eyes mirrors the strength with which he unleashes his fury upon his enemies...While we actors may be well-refined, only the true master, the One-Eyed marimo, can reveal the elegance of his three-sword style."

He dramatically extends his arm, pointing directly at Zoro. "One-eyed Marimo, step forward and grace us with your power!"

Zoro, still feigning indifference but with a subtle hint of amusement, rises from his seat and ambles towards the stage. Everyone holds their breath, curious to see if their stoic samurai is going to play along.

Usopp, ever the storyteller, encourages the act with a flourish. "Behold, ladies and gentlemen! Witness the formidable three-sword style of our very own marimo!"

Zoro, with a smirk playing on his lips, picks up three scrap metal swords from the barrel with practiced precision. The moonlight casts a silvery glow on the blades as he assumes a battle-ready stance.

Usopp continues his narration, his voice filled with dramatic flair. "The marimo's blades move like an intricate dance, a deadly ballet choreographed by the hand of a true master. Each stroke is a testament to his skill and determination. A fearsome whirlwind of steel awaits any who dare to challenge him."

Captured by the performance, you watch as Zoro gracefully manoeuvres the swords, each movement embodying the essence of his true prowess.

Well... You lean further against the ship’s banister, folding your arms in intrigue. Maybe you underestimated his skills a little bit…

Nami, still in her Zoro persona, crosses her arms and watches with feigned indifference. "Hmph. Not bad, marimo. But you still owe me money."

Zoro, not missing a beat, retorts, "I don't owe you anything, navigator. Keep dreaming."

As Zoro continues his swordplay, the crew, now fully immersed in the theatrical atmosphere, can't help but marvel at their powerful friend.

Usopp, revelling in the success of his storytelling, raises his arms for a grand finale. "And thus concludes our tale of the one-eyed marimo and his legendary three-sword style! A round of applause for our fearless swordsman!"

☽

Luffy, having kicked up his feet, sprawls over the stage, his stomach emitting audible growls that resonate with exaggerated hunger. He moans theatrically, a performance of hunger so dramatic that even the stars seem to take notice. The sheer anticipation of food makes him twirl his fingers, mimicking a culinary dance in the air.

Beside him, Brook lies gracefully, his skeletal form seamlessly integrated with his guitar. The moonlight casts angular shadows across his bony joints as he strums, creating a hauntingly beautiful harmony that intertwines with the soft pop melodies. His fingers move with spectral precision, producing notes that linger in the night air like echoes of a distant serenade.

Gramps and Sanji, side by side at the grill, are a dynamic duo in the art of cooking. The sizzle of food on the grill mixes with their laughter as they exchange culinary wisdom. Sanji, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, moves with grace and precision, mirroring Gramps's knife techniques. The rhythmic dance of flames and the clattering of knives creates a symphony that harmonises against the rhythm of the sea.

Gramps, with a twinkle in his eye, reaches into his pocket and retrieves a set of culinary knives, self-crafted with meticulous care. He hands them to Sanji, a gesture of appreciation for the true artistry that the cook brings to the crew. Sanji, looking at the knives with admiration, expresses his gratitude, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Meanwhile, Zoro lies sprawled on the deck, a bottle of sake in hand. He drinks with a contented expression, lounging beside Chopper and Franky. The trio shares a moment of loud discussion and playful arguments, their laughter blending with the distant sounds of music and fire. Zoro, with a playful glint in his eye, raises his bottle in a silent toast to the night.

Over in a quiet corner, Robin and Usopp are deep into a board game showdown. Glasses clink, and laughter breaks out as they banter back and forth. Robin, grinning with confidence, seals her fifth consecutive win. She shoots a knowing look at a defeated Usopp, signaling that he's now on the hook for three vodka shots to make up for it.

Nami, reclining on the banister beside you, holds a beer in hand as she gazes at the stars echoing across the rippling sea. The soft glow of moonlight highlights her thoughtful expression; the atmosphere is serene, a stark contrast to the energetic celebration unfolding behind you.

You turn to Nami, and a small, comforting smile plays on your lips. The distant laughter and music provide a somewhat comforting backdrop to the quiet moment between you and Nami. As you nudge your shoulder against hers, a silent understanding passes between you two.

In the tranquil embrace of the night, you speak with a gentle hush.

"You okay?" you ask, concern threading through your words.

Nami, drawn from her contemplative thoughts, manages a smile that carries a hint of melancholy. "Yeah, yeah… It’s just – I was thinking… Are you sure you don’t want to join us?"

A subtle ache tugs at your heart. It tempts you; it really does.

You avert your gaze, turning your attention back to the vast expanse of the sea. The horizon, bathed in moonlight, stretches out before you, almost too perfectly serene against the gentle lapping of the waves.

"I have so many responsibilities here…and joining you guys would just be dangerous – I don’t…" Your voice trails off, leaving the unspoken implication hanging in the air. This idea of duty, a tether to the ship and its crew, makes you worry.

Nami regards you with understanding eyes, her own gaze drifting towards the horizon. The night carries a delicate balance of joy and solitude, and in this quiet exchange, the weight of unspoken worries and unfulfilled desires lingers beneath the starlit sky.

“I know…it’s just – the offer still stands,” she says, taking a huge gulp of her beer.

As you casually lean against the banister, soaking in the excitement, joy, and life of these people, your attention is drawn to your old man. A subtle tension rests in his arms as he attempts to force a smile, scanning the surroundings with suspicion.

That can't be a good sign. It's never a good sign.

“Hey Nami, I’m gonna go refill my drink,” you say, your eyes never leaving your Gramps.

You leave Nami on the banister, the rhythmic sound of the sea and distant revelry accompanying your steps as you approach Gramps. He's standing near the edge of the ship, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a watchful intensity.

"Gramps," you call out, your voice a soft murmur, trying not to draw attention. He turns towards you, attempting to force a reassuring smile.

"What's going on?" You raise a brow. "You're on edge."

Gramps looks at you, his attempt at a smile faltering for a moment. He places a hand on your shoulder, a mixture of concern and reassurance in his eyes.

"It's nothing to worry about, Raya. Just being cautious, you know how it is," he says, his voice low and measured. "We're in unknown waters, and it doesn't hurt to keep an eye out. But trust me, everything is under control."

You glance around, still sensing an air of tension, but Gramps' words, combined with the steadiness of his gaze, makes you hesitate a little.

You cross your arms, giving him a look. “Are you lying?”

Gramps meets your gaze, and for a moment, his eyes betray a flicker of uncertainty. He sighs, dropping his hand from your shoulder.

"I won't lie to you, Raya. There's... something out there. A...presence," he admits, choosing his words carefully. "But we're prepared, and I don't want you to worry. I will keep you and everyone else safe."

You narrow your eyes, the worry in your chest tightening. "What kind of presence? Gramps, be straight with me."

"I can't say for certain," he confesses, his voice a low murmur, eyes flickering to the others, then to you. "Until we have more information, I need you to trust me and enjoy the celebration. We'll deal with whatever comes our way."

Your arms remain tightly crossed, the unease settling in the pit of your stomach. You shake your head stubbornly. "I can't just ignore this. What if it's a threat?"

Gramps places a hand on your shoulder again, his eyes conveying a mix of warmth and solemnity. "Raya, we've faced countless challenges together, and we've always come out on top. I promise, if things get serious, you'll be the first to know. Right now, I need you to be with your friends. We'll handle this. Trust me."

You pause for a moment, studying him. Your eyes search his face, catching the flicker of a weary resolve in his gaze. Gramps, weathered by years of navigating both treacherous seas and the complexities of life, stands before you with a quiet strength. The lines etched on his face tell stories of battles won and challenges faced, yet in this moment, there's an acknowledgment that the current unknown carries a unique weight.

Finally, Gramps breaks the silence with a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder, his eyes conveying both a plea for trust and a promise of protection. The distant laughter and music from the celebration underscore the gravity of the unspoken exchange, a delicate dance between the duty to protect and the need to savour moments of joy.

"Go back and enjoy the night. I've got everything under control,” he whispers.

As Gramps' words hang in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere unsettles the night. The sea, once a serene companion, seems to murmur in a language of foreboding whispers. The distant revelry dims, and an eerie quiet blankets the ship.

You cast one last glance at Gramps, his weary but determined eyes meeting yours. The unspoken understanding between you lingers, the weight of secrets shared beneath the starlit sky.

"Then keep me updated. Please," you whisper, pursing your lips.

As you turn away, a chill crawls up your spine. The night, once full of promise, now grasps onto something else that eclipses the celebration. With a tinge of tension in your body, you walk into the chaos, the unknown presence lingering in the back of your mind, shaping the contours of the abyss that unfolds. The ship anchors itself into the heart of uncertainty, leaving you to navigate the shadows that dance on the edge of the moonlit waves – one that even Nami won’t be able to foresee.

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fortheloveof-sebastian · 1 year

Text

Not So Little Things

Pairings: Sebastian x F!Reader, Imelda x Poppy

Summary: You receive unlikely advice from Imelda about how to focus on the little things in concern to your “overly friendly” boyfriend.

Warnings: kissing, fluff, brief (deserved?) bullying of Leander

Word Count: 3k

A/N: Granted, openly kissing each other in the 1800s at school, in front of teachers, probably wouldn’t realistically happen. But it does in the wizarding world, I’m making it canon. Also, I kind of fell into the grumpy x sunshine trope with Imelda and Poppy and fell in love with it. Enjoy!

“What are you looking at?”

Natty’s voice, warm like honey, washes over you. However, it does nothing to dampen the spark of anger you’re currently nurturing. At first you almost don’t notice her, until she drops her books down rather loudly on the table besides you.

“Oh, hi Natty,” you say absently.

Her brow furrows. “What is with you?”

In lieu of explaining, you motion across fhe Diviation classroom. A horde of other girls in your year surround Sebastian. The room lights up as he smiles, and his adoring fans giggle while he traces the lines in their palms and predicts their future with seasoned showmanship.

A ball of jealousy forms in the pit of your stomach, like you’ve swallowed something unsavory.

He holds their hands so gingerly, the placement of his fingers on the lines of their palm deliberate and earnest. The same fingers that danced across your skin, played with your hair, and now traitorously entertained the likes of those girls.

Your quill snaps in half as your fist tightens.

Quietly, reserving judgement, Natty rummages in her school bag until she finds a spare. “Here,” she says, proffering it.

“Thanks,” you mumble, both sheepish and apologetic.

One of the girls, a pretty redhead, seizes Sebastian’s hand and presses her palm against his so that their fingers are aligned. Of course, his are much larger, and this contends as an incredibly hilarious reason to collapse into another fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“He doesn’t mean anything by it,” Natty says, finally settling in besides you.

Your molars grind furiously together. In response, you manage to hiss back, “Exactly.”

“He’s just a stupid boy.”

“Yeah but he’s my stupid boy.”

Class begins and you’re left to ruminate in your anger. You can barely focus on anything that Professor Onai is saying, and she mercifully deigns not to call on you; it’s undecided how much of that was Natty’s influence, as you swore you saw her jerking her thumb across her neck several times when her mother looked over in your direction.

As class concludes, you shoot to your feet and make an immediate beeline for the door.

“You can’t run from your problems,” Natty calls.

You throw over your shoulder, “Watch me!”

A stream of students envelope you in a facade of isolated safety. Above the din of conversation in the hallway, you hear your name being shouted. Cursing, you hunker your shoulders in a bid to make yourself smaller, but it was no use. You once watched Sebastian chase a first year from one end of the castle to the other just to return a dropped book — if he wanted to talk to you, he would find a way.

He manages to make it within earshot then, slightly breathless, asks, “Are you running away from me?”

“No,” you insist. Trenched in despair, your gaze darts back and forth, searching for a possible exit. “Not so much running, particularly, as just walking very fast in the opposite direction.”

Sebastian growls in frustration.

You glance over your shoulder. He’s elbowing his way closer and closer to you, using his advantageously long strides to close the distance faster then you can create it.

“Y/N, wait.” His hand locks around your wrist and spins you around. You’re merely inches from his face, which makes it just all that much harder to concentrate. He orders, “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Um.” You swallow. “Can we do this somewhere else?”

“Can you please inform what this is we’re doing? You ran out of class like a dragon was on your heels.”

You debate the rationale of hashing out your issues here in the midst of the gallery tower. Preferably, you would go somewhere private, but that would involve telling Sebastian the problem, which furthermore would lead to you staying rooted to the spot, as you couldn’t imagine him agreeing to put a pause to the conversation to find an empty classroom.

You weren’t going to get your way.

Carefully, you pry off Sebastian’s grip on your wrist. “You basically humiliated me in front of the entire class,” you tell him.

Sebastian blinks, confused. “What?”

“You were like…” you wave your hand, as if hoping to magically summon the appropriate word, “seducing those girls and they were falling all over you.”

“First off,” he says, “if I was seducing someone, you would know it. Secondly, I was just being friendly.”

“Yeah, but do they know that?”

Sebastian’s expression, his usual look of bemused ebullience, shifts. A matter of seriousness crosses his face, so quickly and without warning that you might’ve laughed at him otherwise. “Of course they know that. You’re my best girl.”

A fission cracks through your heart.

“I just — I wish you would show it,” you say, although that’s not exactly what you mean. Words are escaping you. Sebastian shows you, but then he also goes and does that with other girls, and it makes your worries surface all over again.

“You don’t think I show it enough?” Hurt flashes across his handsome features.

You run your hands over your face. “Sebastian—what I’m trying to say — the way you acted in class today, nobody would even know that we’re together.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he sharply replies.

Dread swallows you. You know that you’ve just pushed Sebastian very far from you, and there’s little chance in getting him back now.

The hallway has emptied, giving an echo to his words. You resist the urge to cry. You’re not necessarily upset as you are frustrated; frustrated that you feel this way, and frustrated that you’re not communicating it properly.

“Just forget it,” you say, voice wavering. Before he can see the first tear fall, you turn away from him. “Good luck on your match tonight.”

The only sound filling the Feast Hall is that of a kitchen elf, scrubbing the tiles and muttering about inconveniences. He, at least you thought it was a he, probably wouldn’t have shown his face if it wasn’t for the fact that you were the only one there; everyone else had bundled themselves in their warmest clothes and paraded out to the Quiddith pitch for the upcoming Slytherin versus Gryffindor match.

The roar of the stadium reached your ears even from your position, sprawled out on one of the benches in the Feast Hall. You half heartedly took a bite from your cold dinner.

There was a twinge in your chest, a pinch, that you couldn’t seem to ignore.

You’ve never skipped one of Sebastian’s games before. Even before you were together, you went to every single match. And now, here you were, wallowing in your own self pity, too humiliated and heartbroken to muster the strength to go out to the pitch and face him. It wasn’t like you were even going to talk to him, but just the thought of seeing him hurt like a punch to the gut.

From your view on the bench, a familiar Hufflepuff slides into view. “Y/N, are you still here?”

You nod, trying your best not to appear glum. “I’m not feeling well. But you’ll cheer for me, right?”

Poppy makes a face. “You’ll cheer for yourself! I’m not leaving you here all alone. C’mon.”

“Poppy, really, I —”

The smaller girl had already snatched up your hand before you could finish your protest. For someone her size, she was surprisingly strong. She drags you past the kitchen elf, who apparates himself, towards the massive double doors separating the Feast Hall from the rest of the castle. You stumble upon an impatient-looking Imelda leaning, hip and elbow, against a pillar.

“Imelda?” You look between them.

Maybe it was just a coincidence. Surely Imelda was waiting for someone else, or perhaps to mock anyone going to the match. Last week, during the match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, Imelda had gotten suspended for the rest of the season for punching an opponent.

Despite your theories, however, Poppy breaks every single one by strolling right up to the disgruntled Slytherin and taking her hand. “All ready,” Poppy chirps.

Imelda looks less than thrilled to be holding hands but she doesn’t immediately bite off her head, or even argue. You don’t realize that you’re staring at the two of them in blatant confusion until Imelda returns your stare with a pointed glare.

“Are you just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open like that?” Imelda asks. “We’re already late because Poppy insisted on getting your sorry arse.”

Poppy swats her arm. “Be nice.”

“Um.” You blink. “I didn’t know you guys were together.”

“It’s something new,” Poppy says.

She beams at Imelda. It’s quite infectious, her enthusiasm, and you find yourself smiling. You never would’ve pictured them together, but now that you were witness to it, it was undeniably adorable.

“Let’s go. All of the good seats are going to be taken and I want that Ravenclaw bitch to see my face again.”

With an indignant sniff, Imelda strides off, Poppy skipping after her like a bouncing puffskein. It’s subtle, but you notice Imelda glance down at Poppy with poorly disguised affection. Ever the traitor, your mind turns to Sebastian.

Even Imelda, the grumpiest person you know, makes it clear that she’s with Poppy.

Why was it so hard for Sebastian?

It’s a quite distance from the castle to the pitch. You shuffle behind Imelda and Poppy, grateful for the latter’s nonstop chattering. You don’t think you could collect your thoughts enough to hold a coherent conversation. Fortunate for you, though, the only person who typically could keep up with Poppy’s talking was Poppy herself.

You’re about a hundred yards from the entrance to the pitch when Poppy spots something in the tall grass and darts off with the vague promise to return shortly.

Your stomach plummets. Unlike Poppy, you don’t enjoy Imelda’s company. Especially today, when you’re already feeling low. Ever since you beat Imelda’s time in the broom trial, she had been painfully short with you.

“Why were you alone? Aren’t you, like, courting Sebastian or something?” Imelda asks, disinterest coloring her tone.

Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “I am. I just, um, wasn’t feeling well.”

You cough weakly.

Imelda doesn’t respond right away. Her gaze remains fixed straight ahead, undoubtedly tracking Poppy to make sure she doesn’t get lost. Then, she says, “I know we’re not friends, but you don’t have to lie to me. I saw Sebastian in Diviation today.”

You open your mouth to reply but then promptly shut it again. You’re not sure what to say — how many other people noticed?

“Everyone noticed,” she clarifies.

A groan escapes you. Embarrassed, you slap your hands over your face to cover it.

The start of the Quidditch match is preceded by a deafening cheer. You hear the whistle, then peer between your fingers to watch the miniature-looking players rocket into the sky.

Sebastian happened to be quite talented on a broom, but his reckless and competitive nature made you nervous. The stakes of today’s game would only exacerbate his willingness to ensure a win for Slytherin.

“You can’t let it bother you,” Imelda says, bringing you back. Poppy’s head can be seen, popping in and out of the tall grass.

You exhale. “Yeah.”

“I like to say that I know him well enough, considering that we’re on the same team.” Imelda stuffs her chin further into her scarf. The tips of her cheeks are pink. “He’s just one of those infuriating people person who doesn’t realize he’s crossing any boundaries.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you agree hesitantly. “You’re lucky to have Poppy.”

Imelda tears her gaze away from her girlfriend long enough to scowl. “Please. She’s the second biggest flirt in the school. She doesn’t realize it, of course, because she’s just being nice to everyone. But people misinterpret it.”

You consider this.

“How do you handle it?” You ask Imelda.

The Slytherin lifts a shoulder. “It’s hard sometimes. I try to remember that it’s harmless, it’s the little things she does that reassure me.”

“Imelda, Imelda! I found this for you!”

Poppy bursts out of the grass. She has something in her hand, and you don’t know what it is until she steps away from Imelda to admire her work. A bright yellow flower sits in Imelda’s dark hair.

Poppy claps. “I knew it would look so pretty on you and I was right.”

Imelda pointedly glances at you as if to say see.

You find yourself smiling back at her.

The three of you resume your journey to the Quidditch pitch, the colorful tents rippling in the wind along with the four house flags surrounding the stadium at equidistant intervals. Rows and rows of students fill the bleachers, displaying an array of interest in the game. Some were actually invested in quidditch, while others used the game as an excuse to be sociable or avoid homework.

You maneuver through the crowd, mumbling apologies, until Poppy finds who she’s looking for: Natty, Amit, and Ominis are all huddled together, along with Garreth and Leander. Natty waves as you approach.

“Shoo, Leander,” Garreth says. His arms shoot out and he pushes his fellow Gryffindor onto a lower bench, effectively opening up enough room for you, Poppy, and Imelda to sit. Leander concedes, but not without a betrayed look.

There’s a moment of silent confusion as the former students absorb the cheery yellow flower in Imelda’s hair. Amit lifts a crooked finger, “Imelda, is that —”

“Do you value your life, man?” Garreth asks.

Bickering erupts between Amit and Garreth, joined in by Natty and Poppy.

You drown it out by turning your attention towards the ovular field. You instantly search for Sebastian and spot him cruising above the stadium, appearing relaxed, although you know he’s anything but.

“He doesn’t play well when you’re not here, you know,” says Ominis from besides you. He’s drumming his fingers on his knee.

You feel a twinge of regret. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Hm,” Ominis replies, unimpressed.

Why did no one believe you?

The announcer bellows, “Gryffindor, two hundred points! Slytherin, still behind at only sixty points!”

Quidditch players arc over your heads, emerald and maroon colored uniforms flapping and inciting a gust of wind. There’s plenty to look at during a game — the Beaters, the Chasers; the crowd; the professors, dressed in house colors and pretending not to care about the score — but you can only watch Sebastian.

Seemingly on a whim, he glides closer to where you are in the student section. His brown eyes meet yours. From your seat, you observe him as his spirits visibly lift, and he smiles.

He races off.

“If you care about me or my pocketbook, you won’t miss anymore games,” Ominis comments. “I bet Garreth ten galleons that Slytherin wins.”

You laugh. “That was your first mistake.”

“Betting on Slytherin?”

“No, against Garreth.”

“Sallow from Slytherin has spotted the golden snitch, and Gryffindor is right on his tail!” The announcer declares, voice ringing loudly. There’s a noticeable shift in interest as the crowd focuses on Sebastian’s emerald colored uniform and the Gryffindor chasing after him.

With your untrained eye, it takes you a moment to spy the snitch. It flickers erratically, flashing in the sun above Gryffindor’s goal posts.

“Go Sebastian!” You yell, cupping your hands over your mouth.

Amit, Natty, and Poppy cheer with you, along with Imelda. Garreth and Leader, starkly opposed, shout encouragements at their Gryffindor seeker. Ominis panic grabs your hand and leans into you as you narrate the game to the best of their abilities. When it gets too loud, he can’t hear the announcer, and prefers anyways to listen to your comments since you focus mainly on Sebastian.

Your voice rises and falls as Sebastian races after the snitch, weaving in and out of the podiums. “He’s close! Oh, he almost got hit by a Bludger!”

Ominis grip tightens. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine,” you reassure him.

Your narration reaches a crescendo as the snitch disappears behind the stadium, the two seekers hot on its trail. Breath hitching in your throat, you shoot to your feet. If Slytherin loses this game, you were never going to be able to forgive yourself.

Unwittingly, Imelda’s words enter your thoughts.

You had to admit, begrudgingly, that she made sense. You couldn’t change Sebastian, or his tendency to be overly friendly. In fact, it was something you loved about him. It was the small things that mattered.

And, if one thing was clear to you now, it was that despite being upset with his actions, you still loved him dearly and wanted the best for him.

Murmurs rise as the seekers fail to return.

On the field the game continues, albeit somewhat slowly. Everyone is waiting for the snitch to be caught, inevitably changing the tide of the game. You held Ominis’s hand tightly. Slytherin’s only shot at winning was if Sebastian caught the snitch, subsequently preventing Gryffindor and securing the one hundred and fifty points.

Garreth bends over Amit and Natty. “Ready to pay up, Gaunt?”

Ominis’s only response is a gesture that could be considered poor sportsmanship. Normally you would’ve laughed but you’re wound too tightly with nerves, holding you together.

A stream of emerald across the sky, then maroon.

Tension fills the stadium, then —

“Sebastian Sallow from Slytherin has the snitch! One hundred and fifty points are awarded to Slytherin, and they win the match!”

Jumping up and down on your feet, you cheer with the rest of the Slytherins as a roar of excitement rumbles through the stadium. Even the other houses could respect a good match, and an even better play on Sebastian’s behalf.

Laughter erupts as Garreth digs into his robes and then miserably hands Ominis a pouch of galleons.

“Butterbeers on Ominis!” You shout, smiling so wide that it hurts. Besides you, Natty’s eyes widen. “What? Is something —”

Diverting your attention to whatever has claimed hers, you discover Sebastian hovering on his broom only a few feet away.

You’re struck by how unfairly handsome he is. Every time you see him, it’s like the first time all over again; a hand reaches into your chest and squeezes your heart.

The wind has ruffled his hair and pinkened his freckled cheeks. His shoulders heave, either from excitement or exertion, but he’s never looked happier than he does now. You know how much he loves Quidditch and how undoubtably thrilled he is about winning the match.

He prompts his broom forward.

Sebastian eclipses your vision, turning so that he’s sideways in front of you, still straddling the broom. He smells deliciously of sweat and the freshly cut grass on the field, and something else; fire, your brain decides in a haze, the danger of an opened flame but warm and safe like a hearth.

His brown eyes twinkle. “This,” he says, grinning broadly, “is how you know I’m seducing someone.”

In a fluid move, Sebastian scoops one hand behind your head to cradle it, then pulls you close and presses his lips to yours. A cry of delight breaks out as he deepens the kiss. For you, however, the rest of the world falls away, and all you can focus on is pouring yourself into this boy. You try to impart your apology, your forgiveness, your love for him, and you can taste on his lips that he understands.

Another shriek of approval echoes as he triumphantly pumps his fist into the air as he continues to kiss you with unabashed abandon, holding up the golden snitch. Finally he pulls away as a few professors start to protest, but instead of looking ashamed he looks even more exhilarated than before.

You grin wildly at each other.

He’s swept away by his teammates, then, and you watch his retreating form as he celebrates.

Your friends and several strangers pat you on the back and congratulate you for the kiss, making you blush. Imelda is last, the yellow flower still sitting in her dark hair. “Maybe with Sebastian it’s just not so little things.”

#fanfic #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #harry potter #ominis gaunt #slytherin #quidditch #fluff #romance #imelda x poppy #this is what it looks like when I seduce someone

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hiphop-rap-and-basketball · 1 year

Text

Tattoo • Jayson Tatum

Pairing: Jayson Tatum and Tattoo Artist Reader

Word Count: 2,290

Summary: Tattoo artist reader finally gets the chance to have her first big name client in her chair, Boston Celtics star Jayson Tatum.

A/N: Think of this as tension but like good tension, lol . Also, I swore I had posted this. But I didn’t realize I didn’t finish it but I was so close to having it done! What a treat to have something to post for now☺️☺️ plus I wrote it over a year ago so ages might have changed but oh well. Undecided on how many parts quite yet, just hope you enjoy for now ❤️

• • •

You had a lot of clients these days in the shop you worked at now. As the word got around that you were one of the up and coming new and talented artists, you gained more and more clientele as time went on. But there was one client who you just could not wait to see at the shop again. But this time around, you had hoped he would sit in your chair for his next appointment.

It was 11am now. Today when you opened up shop by yourself, you had to sweep and sanitize surfaces. Once you finished, you sat and waited for your first client to walk in.

You heard the familiar ring of the swinging door and you looked up, feeling pleased it was exactly who you wanted it to be.

“Hello,” you greeted him cheerfully as he walked through the door, all alone. You studied his outfit for a moment. It was casual and comfy. You wondered what he had planned on getting done today.

“Hello… Is Steve in today?” He asked, looking down at the glass table that displayed and array of different jewelry in between the two of you before looking up again.

“Oh- um no, not yet. Not until 1… how can I help you?” You asked, trying to resist the urge to sound eager.

“Ohhh, okay I’ll just come back then,” he stated. He was very soft spoken.

“You sure? Did you want to just book a consultation with him in the meantime?” You asked him while turning the front desk computer on to pull up the scheduling system. “He might have something booked at the time he comes in, I’ll have to check.”

“Ahhh-well I’m looking for a certain type of piece to be drawn up…” he began as he started pulling out his phone. You watched him as he focused on scrolling through his phone with his lip pulled between his teeth and eyebrows scrunched.

“This picture but… I want it to say ‘like father, like son,’ underneath.”

You held his phone and scanned the photo for a moment.

“That’s sweet,” you replied, “did you want to just sent it over to the store email?”

“Sure,” he nodded.

“You need it?” You asked him.

“Nah, I still got it,” he stated, keeping his eyes locked on his phone.

When he sent it and you pulled it up, you admired the photo.

“That’s my son,” he stated proudly.

“That’s so sweet,” you grinned, admiring the photo. You gave him a price estimate and he shrugged and agreed to it.

“Will you be doing it then?” He asked you softly and you smiled at how sweet he seemed.

“Depends… Do you trust me?” You asked while looking up at him. Your tone came out more flirty than you intended. You almost missed his small eyebrow raise.

“I mean- if you got the job here I’d hope you have some skill,” he responded and you weren’t sure if you should be offended or not. You crossed your arms and listened to him as he continued.

“It’s just the placement… I didn’t want to make a woman uncomfortable… I wanted it right here,” he stated, patting on his thigh.

“I’ve unfortunately tattooed penis’s before… so at this point I don’t think it can get worse than that,” you shrugged and he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“If it’s cool with you,” he shrugged. “I’m Jayson by the way.”

“Y/N,” you responded nonchalantly. “And hey- it’s my job and it’s on your body. Are you comfortable with it?” You asked him and he nodded.

“Okay, I’ll just get this drawn up then but before that, I’ll just need you to sign some papers.”

•••

He shook off his sweatpants and readjusted his shorts he had underneath before he sat down. You felt your throat get dry in response and caught yourself before you started staring for longer than you should.

When he sat back in the chair you remembered how you’d have to keep it professional. Reminding yourself that he was just another client. A really well-known individual who smelled amazing the closer you got to him. And clients should not make your heart beat and hands sweaty because it was your job to stay still and focused while you worked.

You watched yourself, avoiding any fumbling before he thought any worse of you.

You performed the usual procedure as you sanitized his skin and shaved the hair off the area. You focused on the spot avoiding eye contact with him at first until you relaxed. You were pleased at how calm he seemed and you looked forward to gaining his trust in the process.

You regained focus again, gathering together all your tattoo guns and ink included. You kept your cool and managed to get a conversation going with him.

“So what if I told you you were my first real person I’ve tattooed?” You asked him and he chuckled softly, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t believe you, I was looking at some of your work in the front while you drew it up, You’re really talented,” he smiled and you quickly looked down before his smile became the next distraction you didn’t need right now.

“Well thank you… I could say the same to you,” you responded as you began filling the tattoo gun with ink.

“Plus, I think I’ve seen you in here before, you getting your reps in,” he responded and you couldn’t help but stop what you were doing to look up and smile at him for a moment. From this angle, he was looking down at you with his big brown eyes. His broad frame intimidating yet calm.

“Oh yeah? Well, I started a couple months ago. Have you always come to this shop?” You asked nonchalantly even though you hoped and prayed he would be back at some point.

“Yeah, since I started living here so, a couple years now,” he yawned. “Steve’s my guy.”

“Hmm,” you hummed in response as you continued inking up his legs, small grin on your lips. “Not for long.”

You were working your way down and needed to get closer to the side of his inner thigh. As you began to tattoo that spot, you noticed him shift in his seat a bit, gripping onto the chair more now.

“You okay?” You asked him.

“Yeah, yeah, might need a break at some point though,” he stated. “My legs are usually… sensitive.”

You smirked up at him. “Break already?”

“Ha-ha,” he replied teasingly. “It’s not an easy pain.”

“I understand. “You need anything right now?” You asked him, your flirtatious eyes were clear now, and he grinned slowly.

“I’m good, for now,” he replied, scanning your expression. “Thanks.”

You continued your work with a great deal of silence between the two of you. He remained focused on his phone and you remained focused on your piece.

“Steve might kill me for cheating on him…” he stated, breaking the silence after almost a half an hour.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him… for now,” you smirked, looking up at him.

“Well well well, how’d you get the apprentice to convince you to give you a tattoo?” You heard Steve’s voice ask.

“Ahhh what’s good Steve,” Jayson greeted him with a handshake.

“I’m just messing, she’s amazing that Miss. Y/N, but don’t go stealing all my clients now,” he said with a wink before walking off to the back.

Steve had been an incredible mentor and you were grateful for how much he had taught you.

Jayson gave him a friendly smile and it was quiet again between the two of you now as you made progress on his piece.

“So about that penis you tattooed before…” Jayson began and you quickly shot your head up at him at his curiosity.

“What’d they get tattoo on it? He finished.

“You won’t believe this but… they wanted a tiny dick on their dick,” you replied and he laughed.

“What the hell,” he laughed, bringing his palm to his forehead before running his fingers through his hair.

“Yeah, um-“

“Did it have to be- uh… stiff?” He asked and you couldn’t help but giggle at how curious yet uncomfortable he was.

“ It was on an off,” you replied quickly.

“My god- I’m so sorry,” he said while shaking his head.

“It’s okay,” you giggled. “I still love this job. Everyday is different. And when I get to do meaningful tattoos like this one- it means a lot.”

He smiled at you before licking his lips, eyebrow twitching at the pain of the needle.

You felt your throat dry at the sight as you swallowed before you spoke. “How old is your son?”

“He’s 5 now,” he replied.

“And how old are you?”

“24,” he replied.

“Ahh, me too!” You grinned, mentally slapping yourself for saying that.

“How’d you get to practice?” He asked.

“Lots of drawing… a lot of it.”

“Hmm,” he responded, keeping his eyes locked on the needles going in and out of his skin.

“What about you? What made you so good at basketball?”

“Same thing, practice,” he chuckled. “It was my dream to play since I was a kid.”

“That’s sweet, you should be proud of yourself,” you smiled, continuing to work your magic.

“I am,” he smiled confidently. “Wait- how’d you know that’s what I do?”

“Well um, your height was kind of a dead giveaway. Plus, I don’t live under a rock.”

“Damn,” he chuckled. “Okay miss.”

“Haha my fault, I didn’t mean to come off sassy. Is this your hometown?”

“No, I grew up in Missouri. What about you?”

“I’m from here, yeah,” you replied.

“You like it?” He asked.

The curiosity in his tone made you feel warm inside.

“It’s okay, but I love that with this job I really could go anywhere. So I can’t wait to get out of here.”

He chuckled in response, unable to give a good answer as his face scrunched in discomfort as you dragged the needles through his leg.

“You’re doing great,” you smiled up at him. The slight gleam in his eye increased by your encouragement.

“I’m going to have to get more in between your legs for your inner thigh…are you comfy with that?”

“Yeah that’s okay,” he replied quickly.

He spread his thighs out and you slowly admired his tan and lean long legs through your lashes and the way they looked in your chair. You felt your cheeks grow warm as you tried to regain focus on the tattoo. Yeah his leg was blistering red from the endless stabbing of the needle but he looked incredibly fit. You wondered what his body looked like under that fabric.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” He asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“W-what?” You asked, shutting off the needle to make sure you heard him correctly.

He chuckled nonchalantly, “I said do you have a boyfriend? I mean, it must be kinda tough tattooing other guys the way you said you do and him not being jealous,” he chuckled, scanning the look on your face as you loosened up.

“Oh- haha, right,” you nod. “No, I’m very much single.”

“Oh, I see,” he responded with a nod, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth in a thoughtful manner. “Sorry- that was kind of a personal question.”

“It’s fine,” you smiled sweetly. “Do you have a girlfriend? It must be hard for her watching you get all the attention from women,” you smirked to yourself without looking up from the ink, dabbing it and wiping it as you continued.

“No, I’m also very single. Pretty focused on the game right now and taking care of Deuce,” he replied calmly.

“Hmm, I have a hard time believing that,” you chuckled, standing up to stretch your limbs for a moment.

“Why’s that?” He questioned, smirk tugging at his lips and he crossed his arms. His golden skin almost glowing against the hoodie color he wore.

“There’s not a doubt in my mind there’s not a woman in your life right now,” you retort, taking a sip from your water.

You had always suspected that NBA players are exactly that as you’ve seen; players. From long conversations you’ve overheard at the shop of men talking about all the women they dated. He was definitely capping.

“Well, I’ve dated a couple of women, for sure. I’m not a perfect man. There’s women out there who want you for who you are or just want you for your money, a chance at fame. It’s an unfortunate circumstance to be in, especially in my position.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say unfortunate is the right word,” you replied and soon regret it. You don’t know what it’s like to be in his shoes and yet, here you are challenging him.

“Oh you think so?” He smiled playfully. “How would you describe it then?”

“Well, I guess I wouldn’t fully understand what it’s like to be in your shoes, but it must suck only being wanted for your money.”

“Yeah, well,” he exhales. “There’s only so much you can do. I can either keep searching or just wait for the right one to come along. When you’re basically defined by your financial status, everything is so different.”

You nod in agreement, unsure on how you got on a topic so deep.

“Well, you’re still young. There’s time,” is all you can say. How far do you push it with a guy you just met but no so much about already?

“Yeah,” he lets out a big sigh. “Not gonna lie I’m feeling a little nauseous.”

“Did you eat?” You giggled.

“Not enough,” he chuckled.

“Let’s take a break then,” you smiled.

•••

Lit lit. I loved this. Still figuring out where I want to go with it but I’m excited for this new beginning 😊😊

#jayson tatum imagine #jayson tatum #Jayson Tatum fanfics #nba players

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pixxyofice · 2 months

Text

hey main tumblr. I've been normal. (Has not been)

Making ocs for the main party is super fun, especially if you like thinking a lot about the dynamics of it. Which I have! A lot!

This is Melodie! They/Them, maybe also drae/draer if I want to be obvious about them. Paper type.

Loop doesn't know who they are...

The funniest backstory ever I have for them is like. In the Hypothetical Reason They Are A Party Member is that in the pre-game canon game, like if it was normal, is that Melodie would be an EXTREMELY missable party member. If you don't talk to a random NPC early in the game they don't pop up later to be talked to and then recruited by Siffrin. In their first appearance in the game they haven't shaved that side of their hair yet.

Their backstory goes like this. They're from the country. you know the one. it's the reason i tagged this as spoilers. They were out of the country for a brief trip in Ka Bue, probably either a study program or to help out with something else. Undecided. On the day they were to return, something... happened to the boats, and they ended up on the continent Vaugarde was in.

A very young teenager, at most, spending time wandering alone. don't think too much about it! haha! this results in them being a lil' awkward, flip flopping between too quiet and too loud in a way that causes them to move on too quick. And then they are 23 (they think), and someone with white hair and an accent kinda like their own approaches them, and... they're with some people they've seen before, they think, the saviors?

and Melodie get introduced. and they want to travel with them more. and they open up. Melodie's still quiet at times, but it's so much easier to open up when people are encouraging and don't hound you for forgetting things that are supposed to be simple. Not in a mean way, anyway.

So by the game's start, they're... a little loud, but in a nice way. Creative. A lil' rambly (a bit much, but always nice to listen to, even if the points go in a bit of circles).

Oh, and, of course, i've thought about THE PARTY DYNAMICS.

Melodie and Mirabelle would be light novel fans together. They make silly poses together to make their lives better and to pose out what the characters are described doing. they laugh about it. They would get into discourse about their favorite characters.

I did mention Melodie was creative, right? Melodie writes some stuff in their spare time, and as one third of the book club, Melodie sometimes is like 'i could use this in my book' and when they say it out loud without meaning to once, Odile takes interest, and now Melodie and Odile have life experiences talk that Melodie can take to adjust things in their lil projects! and also Odile can be the contstructive criticism person.

One thing that helps Melodie out of their shell is that Bonnie is there. to vaguely remind Melodie of some people they can't remember. and be annoying with. And when everyone laughs about it, Melodie does it a lil more!! and bonnie actually does appreciate it! just... not all the way. (reminds them of their sister, too.)

... and...

hi guys i have normal thoughts about these three in particular. many thoughts that get crushed into paste whenever i even try to describe them. Um. I can try though.

Siffrin and Melodie are like. We're similar, but different in ways that makes us seek the other out for company. Our white hair, the way we form words, the small ways we mumble. Melodie breaks out of their shell with a shout, shaking and smiling, while siffrin slides out so slowly. They sit together, and they chat about things they know the others won't get. They remind each other of things forgotten if they remember but the other forgets. they love puns. Siffrin mastered making them, Melodie mastered understanding them and laughing along!! and, of course, the slowly approaching crush that both of them have been festering but have been COMPLETELY ignoring.

Melodie and Isabeau are shopping buddies. Melodie, as a way to get out of their shell, has been getting slightly interested in fashion, and Isabeau is so, SO eager to help out! Along the way this turned into 'get them some new experiences' and 'we make each other better we think about each other all the time we'll encourage each other until our dying breaths.' Melodie started getting used to touch due to Isabeau touching them casually and shouting at him to keep their hand there, and that spreading to the others. Isabeau calls Melodie Mel, and it... hasn't quite spread to the others yet. (Melodie wonders why.) Isabeau admires Melodie for the way they subtly change and Melodie admires Isabeau for the way he has Changed and... of course... the crush they have on him. which is 100% totally unrequited, because he likes Siffrin, and they just HAD to get a crush on someone who already liked someone else!

melodie knows odile is the one isabeau goes to for his own crush. so like, why not follow suit, right? it's not like isabeau likes them back, so it's totally fair. Odile would understand. (odile is the Sufferer)

the most hilarious and fucked up dynamic of three people all in love with each other of all time, i think. (siffrin unaware of both crushes, melodie only aware of the isabeau one, and isabeau aware of both. melodie is also aware of isabeau's crush on siffrin. help them)

I have more I want to say, but... um... getting embarrassed so this is all for now!! um! yay!!! posts this in the tags and flees

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers #isat spoilers #isat #melodie (isat oc)#not tagging everyone haha #isat oc #in stars and time oc

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 6 months

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hello! can I ask if you have any head canons for Peeta getting to do normal, typical teenage boy things once he returns to 12 after the war? things he didn’t really get to do while he was fearing and fighting for his life? Like annoying and irritating Haymitch, finding cool looking rocks and junk to excitedly bring home to show Katniss, and other similar dumb but adorably endearing things? Also maybe some HSc of Everlark just generally getting to be free and fun teenagers together post-war? 🥹❤️

Oh ho ho, Anon. You have come to the right place. *cracks knuckles* Currently raising two teenage boys, so I am ready for this ask like you would not believe. Some of these are pure fluff and some of them have a little more spice to them (which are NOT inspired by my boys lmao).

Corny jokes. Like all the damn time. His goal becomes to make Katniss roll her eyes or groan. He comes up with an elaborate point system. A "Joke Score" as a play on a training score. Getting a soft, inanimate object such as a napkin or a pillow thrown at him in combination with a verbal response earns him a perfect 12 for that joke. Examples! When they are going through everything in their Victor's Village house(s), deciding what goes and what stays, Katniss starts labeling everything with pinned/taped on notes. They say things like Donate or Give to Delly or BURN/TAKE AN AXE TO in the case of the giant desk that Snow once sat behind. And one day, Katniss goes to ask Peeta a question, and when he turns around, he's got one of the notes, in her handwriting, that says Keep taped to his forehead.

He gets perverse joy out of tickling Katniss until she can't breathe and/or is about to pee her pants.

He helps Haymitch give the geese absolutely ridiculous names

Katniss is the one who brings him pretty things from the woods. A blossom, a freshly fallen autumn leaf (look at the colors! this one's almost your favorite color), a neat looking rock. He keeps them on the kitchen table for a day or two before returning them to nature.

The cloud game, where they lay in the meadow and give names to the shapes of clouds, the more ridiculous the better, which Peeta usually wins (an alligator swallowing a garbage truck... no it is, look!)

"IT WAS A FISH I SWEAR!" in the lake... It was not a fish swimming up her shirt Peeta, you naughty boy. That was your hand.

Sitting upside down on the sofa to watch Plutarch's ridiculous new show that he won't shut up about so they watch it once. "Why are you sitting like that?" "Just getting the proper perspective."

Everything is a competition. Like... everything. Who can hold their breath longer (Katniss), who can toss their clothes across the room into the laundry hamper during sexy times and actually make it into the hamper (Peeta, which Katniss is MAD about btw and totally starts cheating by um... kissing or grabbing sensitive areas), who can kiss better (a tie but we need to try again to be sure), who can toast their bread faster in the fire (Katniss, but now it's burned, can I have yours, Peeta? *pouty face* only if you marry me, Katniss. Psssh we're literally already married, you goob), who can shovel snow off the walkway faster (Peeta but he does a sloppy job of it and Katniss makes him do his half of the walkway again and no it is totally not so she can check out his ass (narrator voice: it was totally so she could check out his ass)), who can eat the most *insert food item here* (Katniss, every time), who can make the most ridiculous silly faces (tie again unless there's alcohol involved and then it's Katniss), who can wash the dishes faster (...undecided, Katniss thinks Peeta is cheating by putting extra dishes in the sink or moving ones she's already washed back into the dirty pile. Once, when she accused him of cheating, he grabbed a dirty plate and licked it like he did in the cave scene. "All clean! See! I helped!")

Pillow fights, food fights, water fights, snowball fights, paint slinging fights... pretty much ALL instigated by Peeta, many of them because...

Whenever Peeta tries to teach Katniss how to bake something new and she gets frustrated, his go to method of getting her out of her head and to relax is to smear frosting/batter/dough/flour/whatever is closest on her face.

Singing very loud and off key in the shower to get Katniss out of bed when it's not really a bad day, but not a great day either.

Dunking food in milk. Like all of it, to try it out. Dropping candy into different beverages to see how it changes the flavor. "I'm experimenting for the bakery, Katniss!"

Dramatically flopping on the bed when he's had a long day and whining that he's not moving until Katniss *insert whatever kind of affection and or bribe he wants to glean out of her such as kisses, cuddles, foot rub (ew Peeta, I've smelled your dirty socks and that's not happening -- what if I wash my foot first? or here *presents her with his prosthetic foot* rub this one! but you might have to put some oomph in it before I can feel it)*.

So many one leg/amputee jokes

Pretending to be asleep when he's definitely not and Katniss is clearly horny... just to see how far she'll go.

Both anti-depressants and depression call kill sex drive, but when they're in the mood... they're not seen for at least a day and a half so Peeta has to work up a discreet signal to let Haymitch know not to come a knockin' because the first time it he didn't know, Katniss screamed bloody murder and Haymitch dropped a bottle of "perfectly good wine what is wrong with you two? Is that the chair I sit in for dinner?!?!?" It was not, but Katniss was mortified. And other smutty shenanigans happen on occasion, despite how carefully both Katniss and Peeta guard their privacy and intimacy.

"Hey Katniss, remember when I called you 'pure?' ... I take it back." *pillow to the face*

"Hey, Katniss, watch this..." *does something ridiculous like getting a ball of dough to stick to the ceiling.*

"Hey Katniss, remember when you broke your butt and I had to carry you around?" "I bruised my tailbone, Peeta.. And you had to carry me because I twisted my ankle too." *said with great exasperation right before he hoists her off the ground and carries her somewhere because he can. The shorter and more ridiculous the distance, the better. "We have to move the laundry!" *carries her to the fancy new machines Effie sent them as a toasting gift.* She tries not to laugh or snuggle in close. She fails.

Tucking silly notes everywhere. In her game bag, under her pillow, on her plate at the table, on the window sill where she likes to sit and read/watch the rain, in her shirt when he's feeling extra naughty.

*with the most serious expression ever* "Real or not real, Katniss... this cheese is the stinkiest cheese that ever cheesed?" *shoves some seriously stinky cheese under her nose before she can react* "UGH! GROSS, PEETA!"

Over the top dramatics when he asks her to dance. Only every now and then, though because Katniss also loves to slow dance with him and act stupidly romantic with him, but you didn't hear that from me.

Ice cream for dinner

Blanket forts

Raspberries. You know, when you put your mouth on someone's bare skin and blow out air really hard and it makes a sound like someone is farting? Yeah, those.

"You sleep with the windows open! Of course I'm going to hog the blankets!" Katniss shouts. Peeta solves this by laying on top of her and saying "I'm a blanket!" until she's laughing and agrees to share the actual blankets.

Smearing literal cinnamon and dill all over his body after she confesses that she liked that smell on him.

Attempting to build a catapult to launch cheese buns from the kitchen to where Katniss is sitting on the couch when she's pregnant. Okay, let's be real. It happens BEFORE she gets pregnant with toastbaby the first, but he perfects it during that first pregnancy.

Peeta can't shoot an arrow, but they start making a list of everything he's hit that he WASN'T aiming for... the ground, that patch of violets, the tree next to the tree you were aiming for, the stream, that giant rock, that thankfully unoccupied bird's nest ("thankfully? I would've called it a good shot if you'd hit something we could eat," Katniss says).

"I'm a fluffy bunny." If you don't know what that means, I cannot help you.

"Real or not real, you are the most beautiful woman in the entire world." "No more cough syrup, Peeta--" *LOUD BUZZER NOISE* "WRONG! The correct answer is REAL, Katniss."

“Who ate the last *insert food item here*?!?!” Peeta from the other room around a full mouth “Not me!”

And if you think any of this stops when they have kids, oh boy are you wrong. The kids just get to get in on the fun (of the not spicy variety, of course.)

#thg thoughts #anonymous #look at that ask

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