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ddejavvu · 10 months

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pairing: james potter x fem!reader ft. remus and sirius

summary: james is surprisingly willing to help you despite only having known you for a few weeks.

contents: reader is on her period, james barges into the bathroom because he's That Close to his friends

Sharing both a room and a bathroom with three men after having shared with four women is jarring, to say the least. Your old roommates could be slobs, of course, but there's something about James's habit barging into the bathroom whenever he pleases that doesn't sit right with you at first. You understand why he'd done it before you'd gotten there; you're sure they all had. You had no problem brushing your teeth beside Lily or Marlene while they were showering or peeing, but now that you're equipped with different tools than the rest of your roommates, it just feels wrong for them to see.

You first encounter it on a Monday morning, an appropriately terrible day for a terrible experience. You've just gotten up, and you're using the bathroom before you get dressed for the day, when James decides he needs to shower right then and there. He shouts a quick, 'Comin' in, mate!' Before turning the knob with the broken lock and storming right in, not giving you enough time to announce your presence.

"Ah- James!" You think you'll die right then and there, hands hovering over your crotch as James realizes what he's done. He's butt naked, probably tired after practice and in need of a steamy shower, but he's not any more enthusiastic about you seeing his parts than you are of him seeing yours, and he scrambles to cover himself up.

"Uh- sorry. I didn't realize it was you, I thought- I thought you had classes this morning. I apologize," He smiles kindly, though his eyes bulge where they're glued to your own, "Uh- you can... get back to business."

Neither of you had looked each other in the eyes for nearly 36 hours, but eventually the awkwardness died down, and you moved on.

Until the second time.

"Y/N," He calls, while you're in the shower, behind the flimsy curtain, "Listen, I know you're in the shower and all, but I'm running late, and I really need to brush my teeth. I don't want to rush you, can I just- just pop in there for a second? I swear I won't look."

You're at a loss for words, mouth opening and closing like a fish while the water streams around you. You appreciate his consideration, you know he doesn't want to scare you off or cross your boundaries, but it's a bold request. You're covered, sure, but the bathroom light is on, and you're sure you've got a silhouette behind the curtain. But you're going to be a while longer, and it's not fair of you to hold James up.

"Uh- sure," You stammer, covering up your chest like he'll be able to see through the curtain with laser eyes, "Come on in."

He doesn't hesitate to rush inside, but he's considerate enough to close the door after himself so that no one else stumbles upon you. You appreciate it, but you're frozen as he brushes his teeth quickly, bidding you a cheery goodbye like he hadn't just skimmed over giving you a heart attack. He shuts the door on his way back out, and there's not an ounce of awkwardness in his tone when he chats with you about his day later.

The third time, the third time is the kicker. You've started your period, the first time since you've been staying with James, Remus, and Sirius. You're sure they wouldn't give you a hard time for it, they seem decent enough so far, but there's just something mortifying about putting a used pad in a man's bathroom trash can.

You've changed your sheets before anyone can see the red stain, but your panties haven't been as fortunate yet. They're laying stained and wet on the ground beside your equally mangled shorts, hopefully not transferring the blood to the fabric below.

You don't get any warning, not enough time to hide them when you hear James's heavy footfalls by the door. He barges in without warning, face shifting to apologetic for only a split second before he registers the bloody clothes on the floor.

"Aah," He yelps, "Fuckin'- Are you wounded? You- oh." His sex education catches up to him, realizing why you've got blood only in the pad of your underwear, "Uh- right. Sorry."

"Get-" You start with a hiss, but you rein yourself in, trying to be kind, "James, can you- can you please get out?"

"Yeah! Yeah, right, I'll-" He motions over his shoulder with his thumb, "Uh- the guys are coming, so I'll head out. And-"

"The- what? Remus and Sirius are on their way back?" You panic, regretting your late wake-up. You could have really used the time they spent at breakfast to clean up."

"Yeah, they're- at the door."

"Close the door!" You urge him, as you hear the two other men enter the room. James does as he's told, but instead of stepping out, he steps in, panicked by your harsh tone of voice.

"Not- no!" You gush, but when he tries correcting himself, you lunge for his hand.

"Don't leave!" You beg, but rush to explain yourself when he frowns worriedly at you.

"I don't-" You whisper, "I don't want them to know I'm in here. Like- like this. If you leave they'll know. Just-" You fall silent with a sigh, "I don't know."

"Right." He nods, keeping his voice down so that it's muffled to Remus and Sirius, "Uh, I'll-"

"James? Mate, m'coming in," Sirius's voice comes from just outside the door, and you and James stare at each other, terrified. He rushes to slam his back against the door, and Sirius is unable to turn the knob.

"No! Uh, you can't-" James stammers, clearing his throat and steeling himself, "Use the bathroom in the hallway. I've got the squirts, mate, you don't wanna be in here with me."

You're lucky that Remus and Sirius groan in disgust, because it muffles your quick snort into your fist.

"You fuckin' animal. I told you not to cram those sausages down your throat," Remus snaps, "Now we can't use it for the rest of the day."

"Yeah, yeah, I've learned my lesson," James promises, shooting you a knowing wink, "Now get out!"

You're fairly certain you hear Sirius groan 'gladly', but you can't be certain. Their footsteps recede, then the outer door shuts, and once again you're alone with James. You wait for him to leave, but he lingers for a moment, politely avoiding staring at your soiled clothes.

"Right, well, they won't be back for a while. Do you want me to leave, too?"

"Uh- no, it's- it's okay," You decide, "You know."

"Yeah. Do you need any," James cringes before he even offers, "Help? I mean, I'm sure you've got wiping down, just- do you want, like, chocolate or something? Doesn't that help?"

"No! No, James, it's alright," You assure him, touched by his offer even if you're also embarrassed by it, "I don't want you to go to any trouble."

"No trouble," He shrugs, letting himself out of the bathroom and hovering in the doorway, "I know where Remus's stash is! He probably won't even notice it's missing, he's got so much. I can snatch some for you?"

"Really, it's okay," You smile kindly at him, still doubled over on the toilet with your elbows covering what you don't want him seeing, "Just- a moment alone, please?"

"Right," He nods with a grin, shutting the door, "Sorry!"

You breathe deep when you finally have a moment alone, cheeks burning with mortification. You're not sure you'll recover from this for a month, conveniently just enough time for it to happen again. You clean yourself up swiftly, not eager to spend more time in the bathroom that's revealed you to your roommate thrice in a month now.

James is kicked back on his bed when you reenter the main room, and he shoots you a kind smile that you bashfully return. You get to work putting new sheets on your bed, but when you move your pillow, you find a chocolate bar tucked under it.

If the sly grin on his face as he turns the page of his book is any indication, he's heard your light chuckle, and knows you appreciate him.

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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utytimeline · 3 months

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I might make some people mad, but I'm gonna say it, anyway.

So, Ceroba's reason for choosing Chujin over Star was because she wanted someone more mature. At least, that's my understanding. Star was playing cowboy and role-playing with his friends while she wanted to settle down and raise a family.

And... yeah, Star had a lot of growing up to do. And he did almost none of it until Ceroba stopped him from shooting us.

Star's main character flaw is his ego, but it's even worse than just an ego. Half the reason he set up the Wild East was to help everyone else. He wanted to bring in money to help his family when the Swelterstone's effects caused a drought; he wanted monsters to get a taste of what the surface is like so they don't drown in despair; and he wanted to make Ceroba happy after she lost both her husband and her child. All of this on top of feeling like he was a "nobody farmer" that couldn't do anything or help anyone.

So Star's primary character flaw isn't as simple as just having a big ego. His primary character flaw is trying to fix others as a way of fixing himself.

Sometimes this is a good thing, tho. I often think of Star as the "papa" of the Feisty Five. He's the protective one, he's the one teaching them ethics (reminding Mooch that they're not supposed to be bandits, playing dead to teach Clover about the responsibility of potentially hurting someone), he takes care of the town, he's made ALL his own money from this town that he built himself (enough that Mooch wants his inheritance, so it's a sizeable amount), he even gave his posse a designated nap time, gave Ceroba a home (and possibly gave her his bed while he crashes on the couch), sews his own clothes, set up all the rules and regulations... and I could go on, but I think I've made my point. Star is not wholly irresponsible. He's not perfectly responsible- he, and the rest of the posse, have a habit of breaking and losing Blackjack's weapons, they're all loud and rowdy, and they have a tendency to forget to turn off their boulder machines out in the Dunes.

So, yeah, Star does still have some growing up to do. But he's got a good start.

As for... everything that went wrong... That was entirely due to Star's worship of humanity. Star fell in love with westerns and with the justice and overall sense of romance that they portrayed, so much so that he not only tried to make himself into one of his western heroes, but he then extended this worship to the first human to ever set foot in the Dunes- namely, Clover. And because of this, Star completely threw everything that was good about himself out the window. He sees a human an immediately decides "this is my deputy," without even really giving Clover a fair chance to see if they even are deputy material. He forgot the safety glasses, got so worked up he forgot how to pronounce "duel," became extremely temperamental, apparently forgot that Vengeful Virgil was scheduled for the train mission that day, locked up a Royal Guard against her will (arguably committing treason in doing so, I might add), and just generally began running over everyone's words and emotions, including Ceroba's.

So when it came down to the Showdown... Star blamed Clover. Star's not an idiot. He knows good and well it's not Clover's fault. It's Star's fault- or more precisely, it's his worship of humanity that is to blame. But the problem is, he's taken it upon himself to guard the feelings of other monsters, to make them feel hope and joy. And he just screwed up and stole all that from them. So he's conflicted, not willing to admit that he has done the exact opposite of everything he set out to do. And since it's his worship of humans that led him to this point, he decides to blame the human.

Hence, the Showdown.

But he doesn't want to do it. He says himself, "Monsterkind's Hero is a title soaked in blood." He loves humans. And he sees Clover as a friend. He doesn't want to kill them. He's not a killer, and he doesn't want to be one. He doesn't believe in it. Justice is one thing, but... how is it just to kill someone that did nothing wrong?

So. Here's where Ceroba comes in. Telling Star he needs to calm down and go back to who he used to be. And Star points out that she's changed, too. Even Ceroba says, before taking Clover to the Steamworks, that she doesn't know if she has room to tell Star to go back to the Starlo she used to know.

Ceroba, tho, is no different than Star (this is the part that I said might make some people mad). Ceroba worships Chujin just as much as Star worships humans.

Ok, look. Chujin was a great craftsman. He built so much- furniture for Dalv, his and Ceroba's house, the space heater at the Honeydew Resort, many other items in use throughout the Underground, Kanako's toys (even programmed a video game for her), and so much more. So much that even Star respects him for all that he did for everyone.

However, there is also much that indicates that Chujin wasn't the best at his job. His only award is "You Tried at Engineering," and it took 14 tries for him to build a working robot. In Chujin's defense, I will say that it is impressive that he did build a working, sentient robot without the use of a SOUL, which is how Alphys made both Mettaton and Mew Mew; however, if Chujin is really such a genius, why did it take 14 tries to get Axis to work, when it apparently only took 1 try for Guardener?

And then Chujin didn't just stop with robotics, but went on to SOUL research. Two completely different fields. (And before anyone starts commenting on Alphys, I just want to point out, yet again, that both of the robots she built did use SOUL power; so, realistically, Alphys never was a great robotics genius, but rather, everything she did was a part of SOUL research- hence, the reason Asgore hired her as the Royal Scientist). But Chujin decided to press on with his SOUL research, despite there being no indication anywhere that he had ever done any such research before.

Now, I'm not trying to say that Chujin wasn't remarkable or a genius. I'm just pointing out some things that indicate that maybe he wasn't quite the genius that Ceroba wanted to make him out to be. And... Ceroba's reaction to his "You Tried" award. She's proud of him. More pride than what is warranted by such an award.

Ceroba said she met Chujin when he pretty much rescued her after she twisted her ankle, fell into a ditch, and laid there for several hours, unable to move. She also said that she had considered dating Starlo before meeting Chujin. So... hate me for this if you want to, but I feel like she may not have the best judgement when it comes to guys. Now, that's not to say she picked losers or creeps. Both Chujin and Starlo were/are sweethearts that care deeply about everyone around them. But the fact remains that Ceroba left behind the guy that she'd known all her life for a guy she just met, just because he rescued her from a bad situation.

And I'm not even saying she made a bad choice! By all accounts- including Ceroba's, Martlet's, and even Starlo's- Chujin was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working monster, and a wonderful husband and father. But... he wasn't perfect. And I think Ceroba, even though they had to have been married at least 10 years, just always had stars in her eyes where he was concerned. He was her everything. She believed he could do no wrong. She believed it so strongly, she was willing to do... many horrible things.

Ceroba's drive to kill Clover started with her love for Chujin. She wanted to do anything to keep him alive in her own heart. And when their child begged and pleaded for a chance to help, Ceroba agreed, because Kanako woshipped her father, too. Ceroba's misguided belief in her husband guided her to do things she would never have done otherwise.

Thus the reason for her guilt. It's not just guilt over killing her own child. It's also guilt over knowing that it was her own misguided worship of a monster that wasn't as perfect as she thought he was, that this was what led her to kill, and to kill again.

Ceroba worshipped Chujin. Just as Starlo worshipped the ground Clover walked on, Ceroba worshipped the ground Chujin walked on.

So when people point to Ceroba's comment that Starlo didn't grow up... yeah. She's right. Starlo needed to grow up.

But so did Ceroba.

One of the hardest parts of growing up is realizing that the people you worship are just people. They make mistakes, and you, yourself, are mistaken for believing they can do no wrong.

So, anyway. There's as much Staroba (Starfox, I call them) hatred as there is love for the ship. I've seen both sides of the argument: Starlo isn't mature enough; Ceroba is insane. Yeah. You're both right. And that's why they're perfect for each other. They both made the mistake of changing everything they were in an effort to continue worshipping their idols. They both went nuts. They were both driven to kill. This is the inherent danger of idolatry, believing so much in something that isn't real, that you will do anything to make it stay real to you.

#undertale yellow #starlo #ceroba #clover #my analysis #character analysis #starfox uty #chujin ketsukane #kanako ketsukane

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reveluving · 24 days

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But just, imagine Graves is suuuuuch a hard ass to you in front of his men and a total ass (almost more than he is to his other men) so it doesn’t seem like he’s giving you favoritism and doesn’t make it obvious that you two are doin’ the dirty dooooo. But behind closed doors Graves gives you whatever you want. Want to go on a specific mission? Sure. What a shiny new gun? Absolutely. Want him to bed you over in his office and just devour you(I imagine this mans is such a giver)? Fuck yes. Wanna blow him under his desk while he’s on the phone with Shepherd? He’s already rock hard and ready. AHHHHG It’s just Warren’s Graves’ damn smile. 🫠

WARREN'S GRAVES’ SMILE MAKES ME INSANE TOO, BABY! I FEEL YOU 🤲🏼😭

Includes: mentions of s~mut; oral s~ex, both m & f receiving (minors DNI!), sugar daddy-ish Graves (but he loves tf outta you), this man is a GONER.

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Pray for this man because Phil knew he was done for as soon as he first saw you ✋🏼😔

Him being extra hard on you (in more ways than one) isn’t necessarily in terms of raising his voice more than the authoritative tone he already uses, but more so with an intense stare, or a deeper tone, you know? A stare which I feel like it takes everything in you not to do anything embarrassing as you stand with your team, be it a moan or a slight indication of you rubbing your thighs together.

And it takes everything in him not to express his satisfaction the way he would behind closed doors.

No doubt you can take whatever he gives as a commander, just like how he treats the rest of his team—you were a soldier before you were his, after all. But as soon as you and him get together, he has some sense of not letting his ego take charge in a disrespectful sense just to prove a point in front of his company.

Listen, he’s not a relationship guy. He’s had his fair share long ago, only to opt for one-nighters with his line of work.

But now? He wouldn’t even dream of being in anyone’s presence (and bed) other than yours.

You may as well mistake a Cupid’s bow accidentally shooting him each time the two of you are in private; raising your hands to his lips with a warmer look in his eyes, tugging you by the hand to sit on his lap as soon as you lock his office door, personally tending to your injuries. Or if the wound needs further medical attention, he'll come to check up on you once the professionals have settled their part.

Picture this: on your day off, you and him in bed after ‘sexc time’, cuddling in bed while looking out of the gigantic hotel windows, though really, Phil’s just looking at you and how the city lights just shine on your skin.

But back to buying you shit!

Whether you’re the kind to react to his exorbitant gifts bashfully or immediately thank him by showering his face with lipstick-stained kisses, there is nothing in the world he wouldn’t get for you. Even with a mere glance at an item as you window shop, don’t be surprised to find it under your pillow or suspiciously slipped into one of your bags at the barracks. So, the second he notices your eyes linger on something, he will buy it, with or without your knowledge.

This is just my two cents, but most, if not, all of the blorbos I've written for have a deep passion for you in red lipstick, and Phil is no doubt a part of that list. Even if you can't wear it all the time for obvious reasons, he wants you to keep it with you at all times.

Because there are days when the two of you can't be in the same team together, much to his dismay, say, because of speciality differences, so one of you is needed elsewhere.

So, when one day, you surprise him with a little gift before his departure by leaving a pretty red kiss mark on a piece of card, handkerchief or even on the glass of his watch, just know it'll be an always-thing. A habit, if you will, even if you're on the same team at that moment.

Missions, too, even if he downright hates your choices. Again, your respect over his own ego. He won’t stop you, and he has no right to, but expect to be in the same regime/team as his. Should anything happen to you, and he prays to God nothing does, he’ll be the first to find you.

When days off seem so far, though, his office is where the ✨️ magic happens ✨️.

It’s a common meeting place for the two of you, be it for sharing food you snuck out of the kitchen or letting him take his frustrations out by smothering his face in between your luscious thighs while you lay back on his desk. His office just has more life whenever you arrive. The reports can wait, he’s (mostly) his own boss, after all. The time you both have is more precious.

And the part about you blowing him under his desk while he’s on the phone is so real of you.

He’s able to drone out Shepherd’s voice on the other end of the call because he knows the general’s just repeating what they’ve discussed days or hours prior. Phil’s more focused on your glassy eyes, struggling to encompass his sheer girth in your pretty little mouth, all while attempting to smile behind your tears. Looking up at him as he tilts his head back onto the office chair and occasionally bucks his hips while he disguises his moans with mindless grunts as if he had been listening to Shepherd yapping in the first place.

“Mhm, right, right…” His jaw clenched, eyes lidded and a lazy smile worth making you whine around his cock as he stared down at you. His phone was pressed in between his shoulder and ear as he rested his forearm on the head of the chair. The other hand brushed your hair back, enjoying the way your cheeks became just a tad more prominent at his gentle touches.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back about it,” He wanted to roll his eyes, initially at the thought of having to face him again, only for it to drag into a groan when the tip of his touched the back of your throat. He tossed his phone as soon as the call ended, a smirk returning to his face when he could finally focus on you. “Sorry, pretty girl.”

You choked a little when he gently pushed you to take him even more.

Oh, he wanted to hear more of that sound.

“You can take more o’me, can’t ya?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

Bonus:

Have you guys seen this video with the guy testing out a pink gun with a teddy bear keychain? THAT. Is most definitely the kind of gift that he’d definitely get for you at first sight. Deadass would twirl my hair if he got that for me.

I imagine that if your team learned about the pink gun (whether or not you added that Phil bought it for you), I just find it hilarious that they’d think it wouldn’t have a strong recoil since you didn’t seem to have a problem with it. And as soon as they give it a try, they just jerk back so violently, and Phil’s watching with the most infuriating smirk on his face since he’s seen you play and pose with it when you shoot, taking the drawbacks like no problem 😭😭

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

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phantasmiac · 1 year

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dabi who has no concept of having loving sex until he meets you

tw/cw: smut (mdni), afab!reader, soft dom!dabi, mentions of bdsm, one allusion to prostitution (not reader)

wc: 0.6k

a/n: thought i’d always be too embarrassed to write anything sexually explicit and i AM 🤧

dabi who’s always gotten off to watching sadistic, hardcore bdsm porn and is completely unfamiliar with the concept of sex that means something. i know there’s a whole debate on whether or not he’s a virgin but in my head he’s had his fair share of hook ups with random people he’s met in sketchy places, maybe even coughed up some money during times he was especially horny, pent up and desperate.

and then he meets you and suddenly his dick doesn’t twitch at the sight or even the thought of his hand wrapped around your throat or his belt keeping your hands tied up behind your back? it confuses him because he knows he’s attracted to you, so why isn’t his body reacting the way it’s supposed to? you notice his dilemma, and his definition of fucking hasn’t exactly been doing it for you either. it was alright the first few times, when the sexual tension was at an all time high and you were eager to have him in any way you could; but now you just feel empty, even when he’s balls deep inside you.

he’s very hesitant when you suggest taking things at a slower, more intimate pace. stiff as a board (just not in the right area) when you take the lead at first, gently kissing down his torso and lacing your fingers through his. but then it’s his turn to be on top. “take your time”, you remind him, hands cradling his face as you guide him down your body. you take his scarred, motionless hands and cup them around your tits. and even though he’s skeptical about this whole thing, he’s willing to learn and try it out if it means getting his dick to function around you again. you nod at the confusion in his eyes that makes him look oh so innocent, encouraging him to go ahead and touch you.

he circles his thumbs around the buds, slowly. gives them gentle licks, slowly. all while keeping his eyes locked on the pretty little face that had his pants all tight before he actually got you in bed for the first time. he doesn’t know whether to blame it on the way your lips part or the broken affirmations that leave them; maybe it’s the way they’re left all red and bruised after you pull them by your teeth, or the way your eyelashes flutter all seductively to expose the hearts in your eyes when you look back at him from above. maybe it’s all of it. all of it has him more than just hard; it already has him leaking pre cum. it’s fucking embarrassing, how he’s made a mess while just mouthing at a pair of tits. but even more embarrassing is the way he ruts against the mattress at the sight of the pleasure written all over your face while he eats you out; slowly, until he can’t take it any longer and starts lapping at your cunt like a man starved.

before you, dabi had never thought to press kisses down someone’s thighs or to their clit. never cared to ask if he was making them feel good; a stark contrast to the way he demands to hear your moans and affirmations. to hear that he’s making you feel good. he could have easily fucked every person in the country without asking to see their face, but grips your chin to force you to look at him so he doesn’t miss a single one of your expressions. if there’s an after you, whether it be after a breakup or a falling out, dabi falls right back into his old habits. because dabi is a sadomasochist; he’ll treat anyone like shit and enjoy it, whether it be emotionally, physically, mentally or sexually; anyone but you.

a/n ii: i don’t think smut will become a regular thing on this blog i’ve just always had this interpretation of dabi and i had to let the world know

#dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi x reader #dabi drabble #dabi imagine #dabi x y/n #dabi angst #dabi fluff #dabi fanfic #dabi smut #touya todoroki x reader

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average-vibe · 4 months

Text

No One Needs To Know

PAIRING: Sisterinnit x Wilbur (Romantic)

WARNING: Cursing and unedited work (lmk if i missed any <3)

SUMMARY: as a streamers sister, you get to meet one of your brothers friends. too bad hes hot.

PRONOUNS: she/her, lmk if you want it changed.

STUFF YOU NEED TO KNOW: Y/N: your name

People Mentioned: Wilbur Soot, Tommyinnit, Ranboo, Tubbo, Molly, motherinnit

A/N: i made a poll asking which one y’all wanted like 5 weeks ago sooo yeah… sorry lol!

Part 2

masterlist

“C’mon, Y/N. I don’t have all day!” Your brother, Tommy complained from outside your door.

“Give me 5 more minutes, Christ!” you yelled back, quickly applying mascara to your eyelashes. To be fair, you probably were taking a bit too long getting ready, but Tommy also was being a little bit of a bitch.

After you finished getting ready, (Tommy told you that ‘If you don’t hurry the fuck up im gonna tell Wilbur that you shit your pants every day!’) you slowly opened the bathroom door to see Tommy flipping you off with a hint of a grin of his face.

“Took you long enough, bitch!” Tommy exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Thought i was gonna have to tell Wil how often you shit your pants these days!” He laughed, and followed you into the kitchen.

“Mum, we’re leaving now!” you yelled, while tommy yelled, “YEAH, BYE MOTHER!”

“I wanna drive!” Tommy whined as you grabbed the keys, walking out of the house. “I’ll let you pick the music. I wanna drive!” he continued. “okay, okay, whatever, Jesus..” you’d said, handing him the keys with a chuckle.

The car ride was terrifying to say the least, with Tommy getting distracted by your “shit-stained” music taste. When you two finally pulled into the small café you agreed on going to, Tommy was nearly jumping out of the car and into the shop. You watched as he searched for his friend, whom was sitting in the corner, looking at his phone.

“WILBUR!” Tommy screamed as you covered your face and walked over to where he was sitting.

“Hey, you sorry son-of-a-bitch.” Wilbur said, smirking. “And ‘sisterinnit’.” he said, referring to your online persona. Sisterinnit became your nickname because you preferred to not use your real name.

“It’s Y/N.” You corrected, smiling at the rather attractive brunet. “but it’s whatever you want.”

“Alright, Y/N.” he said, smiling back at you, “pretty name.”

“Thank you.” you said, face beginning to turn hot.

“stop fucking flirting with my sister, asshole!” Tommy teased, smiling Wilbur on the back of the head. “save it for when i’m not around, as least.” He begged, after seeing you roll your eyes.

“I’ll try, s’gonna be hard though.” Wilbur flirted, smirking towards you. You felt a red flush cover your face out of embarrassment.

“Is anyone else supposed to be here?” Wilbur said, after a moment of silence.

“yeah, Molly said she’d come, along with Toby and Ranboo.” Tommy answered.

You had met Molly before, as she had been to some family dinners, And Tanboo was basically one of your best friends, and you had heard tommy talk about Toby. but that didn’t help your nerves. You had no idea why, but you were very stressed about today endeavor. You cracked your knuckles, a nervous habit, as you waited for Tommy’s friends.

“Are you alright?” Wilbur asked, furrowing his eyebrows. You studied him, trying to find a hint of teasing, a smirk or crinkle of his eyes. but all you could find was worry.

“Yeah Im fine.” you said with a smile, and his worry seemed to melt away as his honey eyes lightened, and a small smile graced his lips.

After about 5 minutes, Ranboos tall frame became visible as he locked his car and made his way in, waving at the three of you.

“Hey, y’all.” Ranboo said after he made his way over to your group. You liked Ranboo alright, and he was probably the closest out of all of Tommy’s friends. He was always calm around you, and when you lived with Tommy, Ranboos clam demeanor was a godsend.

After everyone said hi to ranboo, you all began to discuss random topics, ranging from colors to birds. Eventually, Toby and Molly came in at the same time, both finding your group and waving aggressively.

“Hey Toby. Hi Molly!” Tommy said, giving his girlfriend a hug, and Tubbo a high five. “Alright. what are we gonna do?” Tommy asked, digging in his backpack for his camera, (this is the point where i accidentally posted it lol) as you all were filming today. apparently he hadn’t planned out that part.

“We could go to the Amusement park.” Ranboo said, shrugging.

“No!” Molly said “1. Its december, for christs sake, and 2., i have a fear of heights.”

“alright, not that.” Tommy said, quick to defend his girlfriend. “How about the Arcade? downtown?”

“Or the Rollerskate park. we could mess around.” you pointed out, nodding.

“I say we do whatever Y/N wants.” Wilbur said, grinning widely.

“Hey! rude.” Tommy said, rolling his eyes. “It’s only cause you bloody fancy her.”

“So?” Wil asked, smirking. It took you an embarrassingly amount of time to figure out that Wilbur just confessed to liking you. shiiiiiiiit.

“Okay, anyway,” Tubbo spoke up, “We could go downtown and mess around, go into shops and shit.” Everyone seemed to agree with taht, and Tommy began the video.

“HEY BITCHES! I’M WITH MY GIRLFRIEND AND A BUNCH OF IDIOTS!” He yelled into the camera, and thank the lord you all were alone in that cafe. “Today we are exploring downtown london! scary, amiright?” he asked, mainly to Molly, who nodded. God, you felt bad for her.

The rest of the video was filled with clips of Tommy yelling and Molly making jokes, with a few random jokes about how close you and wilbur were being.

“Let’s play hide n seek!” You suddenly said, getting the idea at the perfect time. “Teams only.”

“I call Tubbo!” Ranboo said, walking over to his short friend.

“I call Y/N, obviously.” Wilbur said, smiling at you. You giggled and there was a plethora of “ews” and “get a room!” calls being made.

“Good.” Tommy said after a short pause. “I am NOT about to be paired with anyone but Molly.” He quickly got into his online character. “Okay, pussies. we’re now going to play hide and seek. Ran and Tubbo, you’re the seekers, and no going on public transportation, Ran. Got it?” There was a collective nod, and then a “LETS GO!” and you and wilbur were off.

You had a hard time keeping up with wilbur, curse his long legs. eventually, after you two were out of eyesight in a shopping centre, he took your hand.

“Wil?” You asked. “you’re holding my hand.”

“I’m fully aware.” he retorted, eyes on the floor as he made his way around the centre.

“Why?” You asked after a long pause.

“why what?”

“why are you holding my fucking hand, wil.”

“because i like you.”

“what?”

“i like you.”

The world paused for a second. did he just confess his feelings to you?

“Did you- Are you- why-“

“I said i like you. I’ve liked you for a while, too.”

“I’ve only known you for 5 hours.”

“yeah, i like you.”

“You don’t like to wait, do you?”

“Nope.” he answered, making you laugh.

“I guess i like you too.” You say.

“You guess?”

“I like you. and i have for a while. ever since i talked to you on that discord call.” you confessed.

“Good, taht entire confession would be very embarrassing if you had said you hated me.” he joked, squeezing your hand. He leaned in slightly, making your stomach jolt.

“Wil.. Tommy’ll kill us..” you whisper, looking up at him.

“No one needs to know.” he whispered back. “I won’t do anything if you don’t want me to. but i really want to.”

“I do too.” You whispered, barely audible. You leaned in a bit more. Fuck it. You lean in the whole way.

It was a gentle kiss. soft. he didn’t try to make it too much. perfect.

After the kiss, you and wilbur giggled, faces inches apart. “We better hide. They’re on their way.” He said, pulling away and dragging you by your hand.

-________-

A/N: This sucks fucking hard but deal with it

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur gold #wilbur gold fluff #wilbur gold x reader #fluff #sbi x reader #dsmp #wilbur #shitpost #fic #writer #tommyinnit x reader

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 11 months

Text

shower, m | myg | nyangnyang au

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: It took a certain kind of person to fall in love with the same person every day. Easy, though, when your husband was Min Yoongi.

warnings: husband!Yoongi x wife!reader; shower smut (fem reader, getting each other off - handjob / fingering); domestic fluff and a hangry fluff that interrupts (nyangnyang!au)

You weren’t sure what it was like to love someone else.

But you knew what it was like to love Min Yoongi.

It must be different for other relationships. For one, you always showered together when you could. It was the norm rather than a special moment. Sometimes you had deep conversations about a random concept on his mind or yours. Sometimes you would end up uncontrollably laughing about the way he said something and spent the next ten minutes trying not to snort while Yoongi shook his head at you, it wasn’t that funny. Maybe it wasn’t, but it was funny to you and that was what mattered. Sometimes you didn’t say anything and he didn’t say anything. Both of you immersed in your own hygienic tasks, except when you washed his back. You were flexible enough to wash your own, but there was a time when he wasn’t able to, so now it was a habit for you to soap up his broad shoulders.

You knew what it was like to love Min Yoongi.

It was like falling in love every day.

“Stop slouching.”

“I’m not slouching.”

You punched his lower back with the sudsy bath sponge.

Yoongi stopped slouching.

You placed one hand on his shoulder and scrubbed away at your husband. The funniest thing about you and Yoongi was that you were basically the same person. In mannerisms, preferences, even outlook on people. Different talents, of course; you didn’t know jack shit about music just like Yoongi wouldn’t know how to formulate a sentence with intricate syntax to display an emotion without directly stating it. But there was something about you and him that made you feel so sure in this world of unsure. A shared, unshakable calmness that could not be disturbed by anyone on the outside.

You tapped his shoulder, indicating him to turn around.

He did, wiping the last of the cleanser off his face. Black locks swept forward and plastered to his cheeks in messy waves.

Your eyes found his.

The world a storm, and in those dark brown orbs was the calm.

You wondered if anyone else felt this.

The hot water thundered down in rivets across his fair skin, washing away the puffs of white, and Yoongi smiled at you. You smiled back, but a different kind of smile, leaning forward and circling your arms around his neck as if slow dancing. Chest to chest, faces close, almost sensual, except that you were rinsing out the bath sponge behind his head.

Your husband cocked an eyebrow.

It sounded like summer rain.

The air hot and heavy.

It took a certain kind of person to fall in love with the same person every day. The kind of person that understood themselves well and yet was always trying to find a new evolution of self. Simple but complex. Alive in dichotomy. Someone who believed the impossible was possible, ah, of course it was, because he was right in front of you. You leaned in, wet hair and skin, breath to breath. So many thoughts in this silence that later he would have to piece them together in songwriting. For now, you exhaled, slow and steady, over his lips already parting to receive.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were seducing me,” he murmured.

The corner of your lips quirked upward. “You don’t know better. You’re already within my grasp.”

There was the ghost of a laugh in his calm tone.

“Oh, no.”

You closed your eyes and you could feel his thoughts, feel them in the water and his skin under your arms, in the air between you and him. Anticipation, patience, waiting for the moment. The water that went with the flow that was your fire. He spoke to you even when he didn’t. In his songs, in his eyes, in his body, and you closed the distance, lips to lips, insistent comfort, fanning your fingers in his hair and on his back, still clutching the bath sponge, and he pressed back against you.

Breathing life into your throat.

You used to think, I can’t show when I’m weak otherwise someone will take it and use it against me, and you knew Yoongi used to think that too. I must always be strong. You both liked to say you got married for any other reason other than I love you, because I love you was too loaded of a phrase to a pair of people that didn’t really understand what it meant – until they meant each other and realized I love you meant you taught me I’ll be okay with or without you, so I’ll be with you when forever ends.

You pushed him into the wall, turning so the water was half on you and half on him. You felt Yoongi smile, and you caught his lower lip with your teeth, lightly growling in warning.

“Cold?”

“A little bit,” you mumbled, letting go and adjusting your arms, reaching over to hang the bath sponge on its hook.

“You wanna warn me next time?” he chuckled, half of his hair cascading over his face. Open-mouthed smirk and sparkling dark eyes teasing you. His fingertips ghosted your waist. “I’ll always give you anything you want.”

You returned his playful smile with added deviousness.

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it.”

What Yoongi and you both understood way before this strange feeling called love…

Was, of course, sex.

He raised his eyebrows. You opened your mouth, slathering your palm with saliva right in front of his eyes. Tongue between fingers, a second that felt like hours, too fast and too slow at the same time, and then your hand shot down, wrapping around his half-hard cock, pinning Yoongi to the wall with your dangerous smile and devious gaze.

He gasped against your lips.

Low moan drawn out. Your hand sliding up and down, feeling him pulse under your touch. Water running down your back, steam and warm air and stolen breath and his name an additional caress, ah, Yoongi, lips to lips once more, fervent and intense. No way to describe the feeling except perfection. Trapped in lip-lock and droplets sliding between hot bodies, hand around hardness, and you felt something else, swift and sly, a deft movement snaking between your legs.

The side of your mouth retreated.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” you muttered.

“Don’t think then, my love,” was the response.

You almost moved away, but Yoongi’s free hand was suddenly cradled around your wet hair, and then it was shortened breath, fingers sliding into your slick heat, and now you were following the same rhythm. Deep, rough, fast, a contest as much as it was pleasurable, sharing tongue and breath and matching smirks, fuck, this guy really doesn’t back down, huh, but it was a fond thought, one you approved of because you didn’t know when to back down either, spreading your legs more and feeling him moan into your mouth as he thrust deeper, your pussy closing in around his fingers, squeezing tight. You had a competitive nature.

Yoongi knew that.

Thus, you were now testing to see who would cum first.

“You can’t outlast me,” you purred.

“That’s not the loss you think it is,” he hummed, one hand still in your hair and the other knuckles deep, shuddering into your touch. Fuck, he was doing that thing with his eyes again, lowering his lashes and with that glint of mischief behind wet black strands, sliding slightly on the tile to be below you. Letting you see the edge of his lower lip between his teeth along with his intense stare.

You…

Yoongi cocked his eyebrow at you again.

A muscle in your jaw twitched, involuntarily tightening at your husband’s annoying power bottom display that was doing too many things to your nether regions, including the sudden throbbing heartbeat pulsing around his thrusting fingers.

The lip bite turned into a flat-out smug smirk.

You adjusted the pace to the exact speed and pressure that would get him off, not too tight but locking your fingers to provide the consistent power, watching his eyes cloud and lashes flutter, rough groan sliding out of his lips, uncontrollable flinch rippling across his chest muscles.

“F-Fuck…”

Those dark brown orbs closing and he moaned in your face. Hips shivering, shoulders locking, his hand falling from your head and hitting the shower wall, tense fingers splayed on the tiles, and then you felt and saw the orgasm wash over his features, immediately pausing your hand.

Jerking pulse in the palm of your tight grip.

You couldn’t feel the cum due to the showering water, but you knew he had hit that high from the shuddering of his chest and his hard cock twitching, almost forgetting his fingers were in you.

Until he started moving them again.

Fast, hard, too easily from the flowing slickness seeping down your legs.

You bit back a cry and tipped your head back, shutting your eyes, burning waves flaring from your core and getting hotter, and Yoongi knew the pace, the angle, the depth, all so well, sliding another in to complete the feeling of escapable fullness. Your forearm was shaking, anchoring your free hand on the wall beside Yoongi’s head, other hand still around his cock, ghosting your caress over him, still hard so he must be looking at you. Taking in all the details of your closed eyes, wet hair stuck you’re your shoulders, rivers of water down the curves of your chest, hard nipples dripping, so close, slick and hot and his.

Yoongi whispered your name.

Smoky and sexy and wonderful.

The side of your lips quirked upwards, mirroring his familiar expression.

It all cascaded down, down, there, and you sighed out, electric bliss all over your nerves and skin, inner walls clenching around his fingers and your heard Yoongi sigh too, content and in lust, feeling your pussy squeeze and shiver around his three fingers buried all the way inside.

You closed your thighs around his hand, pressing softness around him.

“What a nice feeling,” he murmured and he wasn’t talking about his own orgasm.

“You gotta take your hand out sometime.”

“Not any time soon. It’s nice and warm in here.”

Then, both of you heard it.

“Nyaaaaow.”

You felt your eyebrow twitch.

Opened your eyes and looked back to see your husband looking at you with a narrowed gaze and an upturned mouth.

“Did you feed Nyangnyang?” you asked.

“I thought you fed her?” was the emotionless response.

“Nyaow.”

“I thought you did.”

Somecat was headbutting the bathroom door.

“Fuck. I must have forgotten to fill her bowl after washing it. I wanted to get in the shower,” Yoongi grumbled under his breath.

“Nyan.”

“Yes, Nyangnyang, I hear you,” you called back to the white fluffball behind the door with your husband’s three fingers still stuffed in your pussy as he lifted his shoulders off the shower tile. “We’ll feed you as soon as we finish up.”

“Nyan.”

“Bossy.”

“Like her dad.”

Yoongi blinked slowly, unimpressed, at your quip.

You didn’t need him to say it to know that he meant, of course, definitely, just like me. Right? Yup. After all, your husband always said that the wife was always right when she wanted to be. Heh.

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

#yoongi x reader #bts smut #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #min yoongi smut

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eyelessfaces · 6 months

Text

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑: 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

santiago garcia x reader

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤: dirty talk

warnings: reader wears a skirt, exhibitionism kink, public teasing, creampie

word count: 0.9k

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

Santiago had developed the habit of being the worst kind of tease in public.

He knew it made you slightly embarrassed, not to the point of uncomfortability though; he would never do something that you didn’t feel comfortable with, and he knew you liked playing along, acting like it bothered you when in reality you enjoyed it.

It was rather frequent for his public teasing to resurface, especially at parties like the one you were at at the moment.

It was Benny’s birthday, and his garden was rather crowded, including with people you weren’t familiar with. That fact didn’t particularly bother Santiago, and you both knew it. It actually excited him more to have complete strangers around, so you knew he could be insufferable, and it had already started when everyone started eating and his hand had conveniently settled at your thigh, progressively going higher up under your skirt as he acted completely oblivious and chatted with Frankie across the table.

This was step one, and the day was far from over.

Despite your best efforts to always be surrounded just so he could be annoyed by the fact he wouldn’t be able to tease you, you forgot the game for a second to take another drink in the kitchen, and Santi took advantage of that weakness.

You hadn’t even heard him coming, you only felt his arms wrapping around you when he hugged you from the back, making you jump in surprise, your glass almost slipping from your grip.

“I can’t wait for everyone to go to sleep so I can wreck you” he whispered into your ear as he shifted his position to grind his hard on against your ass, making you bite back a moan.

Goosebumps raised over your skin, your grip tightening over your glass. “Really, I can’t wait, maybe I could take you right here, where anyone could come and see us” he mutters as he puts his hands over the globes of your ass, kneading the tender flesh over your skirt.

“Bet you’d love someone walking in while I pound that pretty pussy” you can hear the teasing tone and the sly smirk in his voice as he raises the piece of cloth, exposing your underwear, a small whine leaving your mouth as you feel air hitting the damp patch between your legs. “Mh?” his hand pushes onto your lower back so you could bend against the counter, and you don’t even put any force to try to stop this – objectively – unreasonable decision.

“Tell me to stop, baby” he whispers, pressing himself over you to speak to your ear, his erection pressing even more firmly against you. You don’t say anything, because you don't want him to stop, and that’s when you hear the sound of his fly before feeling him push your underwear to the side, the feeling of his tip circling your entrance eliciting a small grunt of anticipation coming from your throat.

“Quiet” he murmurs as he gathers the wetness pooling at your folds before progressively inching himself inside you, a low groan escaping his own mouth as he bottoms out and really plunges his cock inside of you.

Benny’s bathroom had already seen its fair share of action from the both of you, but having your way in the kitchen was a whole new experience, no lock and the possibility of everyone and anyone walking in on you at any moment.

Technically, the chances that someone would walk in on you or hear you were low. Everyone was outside, music was blasting and almost every drink was within reach; you only came to the kitchen to get a fresh glass of water.

Now you were gripping onto your filled glass, knuckles turning another color from how hard you were holding onto it while Santi was pounding into you. His rhythm was demanding, restless and a bit desperate; you feel his hands bunching up your skirt, holding onto it tight as the obvious sound of skin on skin resonates in Benny’s open kitchen.

You have no idea what you would actually do if someone walked in while Santiago was taking you, and despite your best efforts to think of a backup plan, you give up on trying to ponder over that subject when Santi’s hand wraps around you and his fingers settle to rub rough circles over your clit.

Your body jolts at the feeling, the glass in your hand being the least of your concern at the moment; it rolls over the counter with a coarse sound as you come, its content spilling in a trail falling to the floor as you writhe under your boyfriend, drips falling beside your feet.

His movements hasten as he helps you ride out your high, seeking his own; he presses himself flush against you, his breath halting as he pumps his seed inside you, your head falling to rest over your extended, numb arms.

You feel him gently ease himself out of you, pull your underwear back over your sensitive cunt.

"Good girl." he smirks as he slaps your ass, smoothing the fabric of your skirt so it could look like no one had ever touched it. “My pretty little slut.” he hands you a kitchen towel, kissing your cheek before leaving, as if nothing had ever happened, like every single time.

No one would ever know what happened here, if it wasn’t for Benny’s high tech fridge having a camera.

—

as always please reblog and tell me your thoughts it helps a lot!!

triple frontier taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @alexxavicry @grxywindd @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @dameronshandholder @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @luxisluxurious

+ @flightlessangelwings

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia smut #santiago pope garcia #santiago pope garcia x reader #santiago pope garcia smut #triple frontier #oscar isaac #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #fawkinktober

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alavestineneas · 1 year

Text

Together

pairing: Johanna Mason x fem!reader

summary: Johanna hears the baker assure Katniss. District 12 tributes remind her so much of them. She was once seventeen, and she was once blindly in love. It irritates her—why are they allowed to be like this? Why did she have to hide?

warnings: mentions of suicide attempt, typical hunger games violence

''I think I'll retire quite sooner than I intended with that girl,'' Blight announced, flopping down on the sofa with a distinct sound.

Haymitch chuckled at the man's visible misery, passing him a glass from the nearest tray. ''Is she back at it again?''

Blight nodded in defeat. ''I tried to be understanding, you know, with all of that happening to her family, but my nose is bleeding for the second time this week.''

Haymitch mastered a sympathetic face. "I've met a lot of monsters, but teenage girls are by far the worst beasts.''

Y/N rolled her eyes at them. ''I'll talk to her.''

Blight looked at her as if she had three heads. "There is no point unless you want a black eye instead of that makeup.''

''Well, I am also a teenage girl, which is what you are so afraid of,'' Y/N said as she stood up from the couch and straightened her dress. ''If I am not back after half an hour, call security.''

''Or doctors,'' muttered Blight under his breath.

"Or doctors." Y/N shrugged.

To be fair, Y/N was quite intrigued by Johanna Mason, the most recent victor. Cunning, quick, and violent—this is what the media tried to portray her as. Y/N knew better than to trust their vision—after all, according to them, she herself was the Capitol's darling, bathing in love and fame for the past two years.

Judging from the sound, somebody was moving furniture in the room. Y/N knocked, more out of habit than from need. The doors in the Capitol are never fully locked—another illusion for a fake sense of privacy.

"I said go fuck yourself, or did I completely knock out your brain?'' a girl's voice responded from within.

Y/N chuckled. "Is this how you talk to your elders?"

The pacing around the room stopped.

''Who are you?'' the Mason girl asked, obviously surprised.

"You'll find out when you open this door—not the best way to start a friendly conversation, is it?"

The loud thuds continued as if nothing had happened.

Y/N sighed. Why can't things be easy for once? She pressed the hidden silver button, and the door unlocked.

A girl with black hair looked at her with wide eyes. She was standing on the chair, holding a piece of rope.

''Hanging? Very original, I'll give you that.''

''What do you want?'' the girl grumbled, undoubtedly dissatisfied with the failed attempt.

''I want you to come down and get dressed,'' Y/N answered, glancing at the undone bed and shattered glass everywhere. ''As simple as that.''

''No.'' The girl looked determined, still standing on the chair. ''I am not going to another idiotic party with those fuckers.''

''Really? I hope you believe in ghosts, because you'll be dead tomorrow morning.''

''I don't care. I don't want to live anyway.''

''Has anyone ever told you that you are such an egocentric bitch?'' Y/N asked, leaning against the wall. She surely got Mason's attention with that—the girl looked at her, insulted.

''Excuse me?''

''You should've just died in that arena and given somebody a chance to live. Take my tribute, Elly. Do you know how much she wanted to survive? Why steal her chance if you'll waste yours anyway?''

"My entire family is gone, and you want me to smile for the cameras?"

"You are correct; they would have been overjoyed to learn that you honored them by killing yourself over a damn party."

The girl stared at Y/N, debating whether she should listen, before getting off the chair with a slight thud.

''I'm Johanna.'', she mumbled.

Y/N grinned. "Nice to meet you, Johanna. Now let's show these bastards who they are messing with.''

Y/N writes to her almost every week. Johanna has learned the schedule by now - she writes on Saturdays, and on Thursdays, a white envelope is sitting on the porch. She complains about life in District 8, the horrendous dresses she got as presents for her birthday, or how her make-up team appeared to lose their taste after changing the designer.

Johanna never answers. She tells herself it is for the best—she can't get attached to anybody. Mason keeps all the letters neatly stocked in the first drawer of the closet. She won't admit it, but she rereads them every evening. Then, it's easy to pretend they are just two ordinary 17-year-olds.

She doesn't allow herself to answer. Not until Y/N mentions that she is back at the Capitol. Johanna knows what it means—while her friend got to keep her family, it cost her a lot. Only then, she takes a pen and sits at the table, scribbling a response.

It looks messy—nothing like the nicely curved letters Y/N has. She rewrote half of a paper five times. Johanna shoves it into the envelope and sends it off before she can change her mind. She can't help but smile when she gets an answer. Y/N doodled a funny figure, suspiciously similar to Johanna's, covered in spikes. Mason gets the message—she will write more often.

Johanna mentors for the first time; her tributes are both alive, which has been rare for so long in the Games. The mentors' lounge is not as crowded as it was in the morning; most of the past victors take turns monitoring the arena. The quiet chatter is the only sound besides the screen. They talk about a dinner tomorrow, a new escort, stylists—anything but the Games.

Y/N is also here - the boy from District 8 is still hiding. They both know the game makers won't allow it for too long. Y/N anxiously fidgets with the rings on her hands, staring at the void. Johanna guesses they are never getting used to it—even older mentors are visibly uneasy, almost too drunk to walk a straight line.

A scream draws her attention back to the screen. A massive, tiger-like creature charged at the boy Y/N mentors. He tries to fight it off with the nearest stick, screaming in horror as the animal opens its mouth and takes a bite of his leg, tearing it off.

Johanna's head flies at Y/N; she is already watching, lips pursed into a white line. More screams ring in the now silent room, along with sounds of growls and what Johanna believes to be the sound of tearing flesh. Finally, the screaming stops; the camera changes to Career's pack.

The mentors try to hide their gaze from the Y/N's figure as she stands up from the couch and leaves the room, her steps echoing in the hallway.

The District Two mentor pours himself a glass of whiskey, downing it in one go; most mentors follow him, and the conversation completely vanishes.

Johanna tries to recollect herself, adjusting the hem of her shirt. The boy's blood-stained face still runs through her mind, so she doesn't notice a figure behind her until somebody places a hand on her shoulder.

''Go talk to her. I'll watch.''

It's a blonde woman from District One - Cashmere or Gloss, Johanna was not sure. She wants to argue but quickly changes her mind. The woman obviously means no harm. So, Johanna nods.

She finds Y/N easily - she is in the training room, sparring with animated figures with a spear. Johanna recalls Y/N telling her that the only reason she chose spears was because they resembled the sticks she used to practice with at District 8. Mason thinks she was joking - her friend was hitting every target with ease right now.

Johanna sits down beside the girl on the burnished metal floor. She was never good with words; it was Y/N who always seemed to know what to say.

''I'm sorry.''

''He was very happy to eat ice cream, you know?'' Y/N says, her voice faint.

"It was his wish?"

Y/N nods. ''It makes them feel better, I think. Hell, it makes me feel better about sending them to their deaths—to know I did something good for those kids.'' She looks down at her hands, her lips trembling. ''He was a nice kid and died such a horrible death, Jo, such a terrible, cruel death.''

Y/N's voice breaks.

She leans into Johanna's embrace, and Mason almost instinctively wraps her hands around her friend's shaking shoulders. It was the first time she saw Y/N like this. Without a mask Capitol made her wear, without the walls she built around herself. Just Y/N.

''We are going to be alright,'' Johanna says.

She hopes her words sound convincing. Of course, they're a lie - nothing is ever okay in this messed-up world. They both know this, but Y/N still whispers a small thank you.

Johanna's heart aches, and a familiar warm sensation spreads through her chest. She resists the urge to wipe the tears off her friend's face. They are friends, and Johanna is happy with that. It is still a lot more than she deserves.

Today is Y/N's birthday, and the Capitol is throwing a big party for "the favorite." Johanna doesn't ask why she has this title. Of course, they adore her - Y/N won the Games when she was fifteen. She grew up in front of the camera, and, what is more flawed, she grew up with people behind it.

It is easily seen when Y/N's face changes each time she walks on the stage. Her warm eyes transform into big doe eyes, and a picture-perfect smile appears. She is a perfect actress, quick to come up with a witty remark or play into the naïve girl they view her as.

She won the Games that way; Johanna has to remind herself. Y/N got a 3 as a training score, possessing almost none of the fighting skills. She did, however, know what the Capitol wanted: someone charming, attractive, and willing to put on a show. That and the desert arena got her where she is now.

The perfect victor now lays on the floor next to Johanna, her head on Mason's lap. They are both twenty-one now, not that their age ever stopped them from stealing the alcohol. The party is tomorrow, and Snow wants to put on a show. For now, they can live.

''Jo, can I tell you something? But you must promise not to be angry.''

Mason responds with a hum; she enjoys hearing her rash ideas. The braid she is making out of Y/N's hair is coming out not like she intended, and Johanna huffs in annoyance. ''Just spill it, would you?''

Y/N's face becomes serious. ''I think I am in love with you. And to be fair, it scares the shit out of me.''

The world stops for a second. Johanna thinks she did not hear it right, but there is no other way to understand this. She feels her heartbeat in her ears, loud enough to cover any other noise.

''Well. Yell, scream, or say something. Anything.'' Y/N sits up, a half-finished braid falling undone.

''We can't,'' Johanna says nervously, licking her lips.

''So, you feel this way too?''

"No, that is not the point. We can't do this.''

''Why?'' Y/N takes her hand in hers. ''They'll have to allow it. We can even be a secret if you want to. We'll figure it out, I promise.''

''No.'' Johanna shakes her head. ''You know what happens to the people I love, Y/N. One wrong step, and you will be dead. I can't do this, not again.''

Y/N pauses. "I think you are just afraid to be happy."

"No," Johanna whispers, "I'm afraid of losing you."

Y/N blinks, fighting the tears gathering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, but Johanna was faster.

''I'll go. It's late.'' If she stays any longer, she might lose it.

The door behind her closes with a loud bang. The realization comes suddenly - she lost the only person who loved her. Johanna lets out a few choked sobs, sliding against the nearest wall in a small, empty hall. The worst part is that she loved her too.

Johanna is mad—furious even. The Capitol already did everything in its power to break her, yet here she is, going back into the arena. Her reaping wasn't that much of a surprise; she is the only female victor in District 7. Johanna is convinced every name drawn wasn't random—a brother and sister from District One, Finnick and his sweetheart Annie, Y/N.

They meet in the bathroom before the interviews, of all places. Y/N is attempting to remove the mascara from her eyelid, and Johanna is trying hard not to laugh - if only the cameras saw her like this, she would undoubtedly win over all of the sponsors. No other victor radiated as much anger and determination as she does now.

''Stop laughing and come help me,'' Y/N grumbles.

Johanna grins. ''I wasn't laughing.''

''Yeah, whatever.'' Y/N watches as Johanna picks up a napkin and dips its end in the water.

''Close your eyes.''

Y/N does what she is told, the corners of her lips twitching. ''Yes, ma'am.'' She earns a slap on the hand from Johanna. ''Ouch! What was that for?"

"Not everything has to be a sex joke, you know?"

''Well, where is the fun in that?" Y/N opens her eyes. Johanna's face is inches away from hers. ''Jo...''

''Shut up," she mumbles, covering the girl's lips with hers.

Y/N throws her arms around her, pressing Johanna's body as close as humanly possible. The kiss is hard. Griping. Almost painful. It's like they can't get enough of each other. But Johanna wouldn't want it any other way.

Y/N pulls away first, watching Johanna take a few rushed breaths in. ''I thought we couldn't do it,'' she jokes.

Mason rolls her eyes. "I liked your mouth closed better."

Y/N's face turns serious, her playful expression vanishing. ''Regarding that. Give them hell. For me.''

Johanna nods. ''I promise.''

It wasn't supposed to be easy, and Johanna is reminded of that by stupid birds; while she pities Finnick and Katniss, she is also jealous - they still have someone to care for. Mason doesn't know if Y/N is still alive - the last time she saw her was at the Bloodbath. She can't swim.

''They won't touch Prim!''

Johanna hears the baker assure Katniss. District 12 tributes remind her so much of them. She was once seventeen, and she was once blindly in love. It irritates her—why are they allowed to be like this? Why did she have to hide?

''Your fiancé's right. The whole country loves your sister. Forget the districts; there will be riots in the Capitol if they torture or harm her.'' Johanna turns to the cameras and yells. ''Hey, how does that sound, Snow? What if we set your backyard on fire? You know you can't put everybody in here!''

She feels the stares of her alliance on her, but frankly, she does not care anymore. ''What? He can't hurt me. There's no one left that I love.''

Finnick glances at her, eyebrows raised. He knows. Y/N was his friend too.

Johanna tries to meet her fate with anger at first. It served her well throughout her life, as she dealt with every adversity with sarcasm and insults. Mason maintains her arrogance, refusing to allow them to hear her screams or begs. Johanna refused to be turned into entertainment, even after losing. She didn't cry when they cut her hair or beat her. She told herself, "The help is near.''

It provoked them more. The torture becomes more violent day by day until Johanna is exhausted. She has endured it for weeks, and help still hasn't come. She just wants to slump in her chains and silently take it.

The breadboy's cells are next to hers; she hears his screams more than she does her own. Johanna wasn't sure how much time had passed until she heard another familiar cry.

It's Y/N. Mason can swear on the remains of her sanity that it was her voice. She was alive. It takes Johanna everything not to show how much those shouts affected her—it could mean more torture for the District 8 victor.

Johanna now awoke from Y/N's screams and drifted into unconsciousness with them, as if by clockwork. The torture was sometimes worse than electricity. Her biggest fear came true—she sacrificed their happiness for nothing.

Mason is drawn away from her thoughts by another couple of screams. The sound of water pouring fills her ears - it's all happening again.

Johanna finds herself even more isolated when they are finally rescued. In a sense, they were in this together in the Capitol; she could at least hear other people, even if it was just screams. Johanna was now completely alone; whereas Peeta had Katniss and Annie had Finnick, Johanna had no one to look out for her. Johanna doesn't want to fight anymore. She is tired. There is a void in her soul, and she doesn't know how to fix it.

The doctors here tell her it's okay not to feel understood, but Johanna knows old Y/N would. She always somehow did. Mason wonders why everyone in her life despises her - what has she done to deserve this? Why do others have someone to return to, someone in their right mind? Why couldn't it be them?

Y/N was still under the constant attention of the doctors. They meet twice a week under strict supervision. Y/N listens to Johanna attentively each time, but something about her gaze feels odd. She can't place it - Y/N is distant and quiet, but that's unusual. Mason tells herself that it was the outcome of the torture they had to survive and that she'll get better with time. It's not her Y/N, but Johanna can't be the one speaking. The Capitol changed them both.

It finally clicks for Johanna when she hears that doctors found a knife in Y/N's room. A knife that she intended to use. It was the absence of hope in her eyes that felt unusual; before, it was always there.

''You are such a hypocrite, you know that?" Johanna tells her. They are in a hospital ward. Y/N's face is tear-stained, and yet, she doesn't answer. ''Remember what you told me the first time we met? That you have to live for those who can't?''

Johanna is angry. She is furious, both with Y/N and with herself, as well as with everyone in this dreadful building. Why can't they understand?

''Well, maybe I lied.'' Y/N's voice is hoarse. It was the first time she had spoken since their rescue. ''There is no point in living anymore, Jo. There always was none.'' She shifts on her bed, looking up at Johanna. ''It never gets better. So it's fairer if we end it now and save ourselves a lot of suffering. ''

''No.'' Johanna's hands are in fists, and she comes closer to the woman in front of her. ''You are not fucking allowed to decide that, not when I spent all those days staying alive and sane for you. Do you hear me? Not for me, for you! I woke up and listened to your screams. I thought about you before I fell asleep because I knew we would get a chance to finally have a normal life when this was over. And now you're saying there's no point?''

Y/N's lower lip trembles, with glimmery tears running down her sunken cheeks. ''I'm sorry.''

Johanna sighs and settles in next to her. ''Look, I can't promise anything. I don't know if it will ever be okay. But we can try.''

Y/N looks at her, and her eyes are finally warm again. ''Together?'' she asks.

Johanna feels the knots in her chest loosening for the first time in a while. ''Together.'', she nods.

#hunger games #thg #johanna mason #hunger games johanna mason #johanna mason x reader #johanna mason x you #johanna mason x y/n #hurt/comfort #wlw #au #imagine #district seven #district eight

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merbear25 · 2 months

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Been thinking a lot about Caesar...

Been thinking about how difficult it'd be to set your suspicions aside. Despite his calming and inviting demeanor, his actions deteriorate those around him—decay and peril extending out of his finger tips.

A talented mind being applied to such chaos and suffering: when paired with a wide grin, doubt in his sincerity blanketed over you. Fearing what could happen if you were caught off guard, planning precautions ensued. However, he'd be keeping an eye on you, even when you thought you were alone.

You were refraining from getting too close to him; you'd witnessed too many fall victim to having the life sucked out of them or being overly trusting, leading them to nightmarish experiments. Naivete was acting as an opiate—omitting any sense to resist, making them malleable.

Keeping track of what exactly set him off, you'd jot each one in your notebook. In doing this, you were picking up on certain habits of his, which were ones that might be seen as endearing if it were anyone else: babbling to himself if he made a careless miscalculation, how animated he'd get around certain people, and the way he threw his hair up in a huff while working.

Danger comes in all shapes and sizes, though. Unbeknownst to you, he was just as cautious of you as you were of him. Having his fair share of trust issues, he'd been keeping tabs on you since you waltzed into his life. He kept an eye on everyone, but you and your most recent behavior set off alarms.

Lurking behind each corner, staying just out of sight, so as not draw your attention to him, he observed you. Distrust made his chest heave, while watching you scribble something in your notebook. Forboding casted itself, consuming any ability for reconsideration.

Hissing from what sounded like a busted pipe caused fear to wrap around your heart, making you break out in a cold sweat. Shortly after the first signal of his presence was released, the gas clouds trailed up and over your body and dispersed around you.

Too nervous to turn around to face him, you calmly closed your notebook and waited.

"What have you been up to?"

There was no malice in his words, yet you knew better than to take him at face value. "I was just finishing up the notes from earlier. You know, before I forgot."

Locks of his hair drapped over you as he leaned in. He whispered, "How long did you think you'd be able to hide this from me?"

Attempting to suppress your rising heart rate, you assured him you'd been keeping to your work as normal.

He placed a hand down firmly on the table next to your notebook. Going wide-eyed at his sudden falter in patience, you peared down at what contained all that you'd written down on him.

"In that case, you won't mind if I take a look, will you?" His other hand snaked around from the other side.

When he threw the cover open, you shut your eyes, not being able to bear witnessing death closing in on you. After a few moments passed, you were shaking from anticipation of the punishment he'd surely cast down on you—but nothing was happening. Cautiously, you opened one eye to see which page he'd opened to: those of his personal habits, along with the little hearts doodled next to some of them were glaring back at you.

Not knowing whether you would've preferred to be slain for plotting against him or from your own humiliation, you sat where you were—staring at the pages that'd betrayed you.

Breaking the silence, he let out a chuckle, "Had no idea you were the type to get 'love sick'."

NSFW below the cut!!! fem!reader, teasing, fingering, vaginal penetration

Shell shock still effecting you, you weren't able to muster an excuse.

"Don't worry, dear. Your little secret is safe with me," he laughed a bit harder this time, the irony was too sweet not to torment you with. Calming down from that outburst, he leaned in again and brought his hands nearer to you. "That is, on one condition."

With surprise replacing your fear, you'd unfortunately allowed yourself to fall pray to his trickery just as the others had. "What is it?"

Tilting his head up to ponder, he laid his hands on your shoulders saying, "Hm, I may have a suitable solution." Offering his hand, he lured you in with a simple command, "Follow me."

Finding yourself in his bedroom made you halt in your tracks. "Did we...take a wrong turn?" Denial passed over your lips of what was about to unfold.

"Surely you can't be as naive as the others." Grinning down at you, he ran his hand over your dress, cupping your breast just before you pulled away in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you were scribbling hearts in your journal next to my name as a bluff."

While backing away, you stumbled and tripped onto the floor. Having fallen on your tailbone, you winced from the sudden pain.

Cocking his head at you, he sighed, "You may, however, be more hopeless than the others." In one swoop, he tossed you on the bed. Not having enough time to process what was happening, he took advantage of your vertigo—climbing on top of you, releasing spores of arousal with each shift he made.

Having picked up on your nerves, he started out slowly: rubbing your legs, running his hands up your dress, and circling his thumbs at the top of your pubic bone. He was observing your expressions and body language, all of which were hinting that you were getting rather excited.

Laying down next to you, he had you wrapped in his arms. Opening your legs, he ran his hand over your panties, which were already set to be rung out. Witnessing the affects he had on you, he pressed his hardening member against your leg while twirling his fingers around your clit.

This was proving to be too much for you; you were feeling overwhelmed from the rushes of lust and uncertainty towards him. "I don't know if I can do this," you breathed heavily, trying to avert your eyes, which had already begun to blur from the much awaited release you'd secretly been after.

He nuzzled against the top of your head, caressing your weeping slit. "Your body is calling out for me though. Why should it be denied what it's obviously craving?"

You bit at your bottom lip as you felt him grind up against your thigh again; your chest was falling and rising from the build up which you were hanging on by a thread.

Sensing you were cracking, the drive to push you past your limits took over; he forced your delicates to the side, partcially exposing your needy pussy. Sliding his fingers inbetween your slick lips, he grinned at the sight of you: clinging to the sheets, already thrusting against him; you were still trying to resist, although your will-power was hurridly reaching its breaking point.

Watching you deperately chase after your repressed lust, he ripped the top of your dress down, revealing your breasts. Greedily grabbing and clenching them, care was especially given to your erect nipples. You whimpered as he pinched them, testing how easy it'd be to make you crumble from ecstasy.

Rutting against his stiffened length, your hand latched onto his hip to steady yourself. Paying no mind to how he'd been watching you, you failed to notice his dark fantasies coming forth.

Him abruptly tugging your panties off made you gasp―the material left behind red spots from the sudden force. Your shrieks only added to your delectable vulnerability.

After seeing him chuck them off to the side, you felt his bare cock proding you. Pressing against your thigh, the motions from him preparing himself jolted across your lower half.

He forced your legs further apart; a faint whimper came from him when he realized your lower half had been coated in your disgraceful abandonment of morals.

After taking a minute to admire the view, he promptly thrusted inside you. Knowing it'd cause some pain, the sadist in him still yearned to see you squirm. The initial twinge of discomfort wore off, now just fragments scattered amongst your spasming walls.

You both new you wouldn't be able to hold out for much longer. Settling on twirling your pearl against the pad of his finger, he allowed himself the pleasure of watching your breasts chaotically bounce and slap against each other.

Your self-control was failing you: slipping away with each thrust he rammed between your creamy lips. Your breath was shaking as your vision speckled. Feeling you unravel on him unexpectedly forced his own willpower to collapse―joining you in your rapturing frenzy.

As he eased out of you, you let the cum spill out; watching it drip down, you kept the tingles of bliss prickling at the sight of it a secret from him.

You looked over at him to catch a devilish look appear on his face. Forgetting what'd gotten you into this predicament, you casually asked what that look was for.

"Hm? Just thinking about the next secret you'll try to hide from me. You're constantly scribbling in that damn thing, so there should be plenty to blackmail you with."

Your cheeks reddened when thinking back to the incriminating ideas you had. When you shrank away from him, he alluded to his hunches, "This will surely make for a good compromise."

#the brainrot is real #one piece #x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #op #caesar x reader #caesar clown one piece #one piece caesar #caesar one piece #caesar clown #one piece caesar clown #one piece smut

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sserpente · 9 months

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A/N: I know there’s been so much Billy lately. I’m so obsessed with him though, it’s crazy, haha! Have fun!

Words: 1403 Warnings: mentions of racism

The local fun fair was a highlight of Hawkins’ boring small-town life, you had learned this much when Steve had called and asked you to join him, Nancy and the kids for a fun evening out.

You were having the full experience—silly music blaring from speakers high up on the lampposts, candy floss, roasted almonds, rigged games and fun rides… it was a lovely break from all the work you had been doing the past couple of weeks. Building a career in a small town wasn’t all too easy, after all.

Everyone here was lovely all the time. Well, maybe except…

“Having fun, Maxine?” Speak of the devil.

Max froze. As if someone had flipped a switch, her confident and careless demeanour was gone and she transformed into a little girl terrified of her step-brother. You narrowed your eyes at Billy.

He leaned against the lamppost as if he had all the time in the world, muscles bulging. His friends loomed around him like little minions.

“I’m not late…” Max claimed. “You said nine p.m.”

“For once you’re not, shitbird. I’m early. What? Can’t I enjoy myself too?”

Billy’s eyes locked with yours. You’d moved here shortly after Billy and Max themselves had and needless to say, Billy had not been happy to find out you were immune to his charms. Truth be told, you were just really good at hiding it.

You were not dumb—you knew he knew exactly what to tell women to lure them in, how to behave and what to do. You’d watched him once. He had the skill to talk about sex without talking about sex and it had gotten you riled up enough for you to race home, lock yourself in and masturbate for the rest of the afternoon.

Billy Hargrove would remain just that for you—a fantasy, for you were certain that becoming another notch in his belt would only lead to heartbreak and a bad reputation. You didn’t just spread your legs for anyone. The guy had to earn it, properly.

Until then, you would—much to the others’ dismay—remain friends. You’d been in school together, after all, and you made a habit of getting along with people. What had really fused you together though was when you had witnessed Billy getting punched square across the face by his own dad. You’d known that there was more to his arrogant and entitled demeanour than he let on.

Behind you, Lucas shifted on the spot. None of them had forgotten the undoubtedly racist comments Billy had made, not to mention this one time he almost beat him up had Steve not interfered.

“Come on, man, just leave them be. I can take her home too later,” Steve said just at that moment. Billy scoffed.

“You’re not taking her home, that little shit is my responsibility. Don’t be late,” he added, turning to Max who only nodded without another word. You thought the situation was successfully averted but Billy had other plans, for when you started strolling through the stalls, he and his friends followed right after, always a little too close for their liking. Lucas was, understandably, the most nervous. You sighed. You’d put an end to this. Last time, when Steve fended him off, it didn’t end well. Time to take action.

You walked over to him, watching with reluctant attraction how he lit himself a cigarette and eyed you up and down like prey as you approached him at the basketball stall. Before you could even say a word, he spoke up.

“Why are you hanging out with these losers?” Your name left his lips almost seductively.

You tilted your head at him—slowly, to give him a chance to take that back even though you were certain he wouldn’t.

“What are you doing, Billy?”

“What am I doing? I’m having fun. You should try it sometime,” he said, feigning innocence.

You chuckled and wrapped your arms around him to greet him properly. He reciprocated it more heartily than you would have expected and held you close just for a second too long.

“You could give Max a break though, you know. Let her have fun for one evening as well. Why are you following her around now?”

“Because whether she likes it or not, we’re family now and I have to look out for her, alright?”

You sighed. “Did your dad tell you to…?”

Billy glared at you and you shut your mouth. “I told you to stay out of this.”

“Guys? Why don’t you go ahead? I’ll stick with Billy for a while.” You could tell they all disapproved, Steve the most. They clearly weren’t fond of the idea of you being friends with Billy. And sometimes, you weren’t either. He was like a ticking time bomb, always on the verge of lashing out. He was dangerous—and that made him even sexier.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“I won’t kidnap her, King Steve, don’t worry,” Billy mocked. Steve rolled his eyes, gave you one last nod and off they went. You could practically feel Lucas’ relief. You still had a lot of work to do when it came to convincing Billy that disliking someone because of their skin colour was fundamentally wrong but you were making progress—slow progress.

“What do you say, boys? All five wins the big prize,” the stall owner announced with a sly grin, pointing at the massive plush toys hanging from hooks on the wooden ceiling of the stand. Given that the metal circles the basketballs here were supposed to be tossed through were rotating, it seemed highly unlikely anyone had managed to win before. You weren’t surprised. Most of the games here were rigged.

“That’s it?” Billy asked, unimpressed. The stall owner blinked all the while Billy pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill from his jeans pocket and practically slammed it on the counter before grabbing the first basketball.

“Which one do you want?”

Your eyes widened. “What, me?”

“Yes, you, doll. What use do I have for a giant bear?”

You pressed your lips together to a thin line, suppressing the comment dancing on the tip of your tongue. Billy gave you a taunting look. “Don’t you dare make a stupid remark.”

“Aw, why not, they’re so fun!”

He purred your name darkly and almost… threateningly. Something inside you stirred and clenched. It almost felt like it was travelling right between your legs. Damn him.

“The black one,” you said then, pointing at a dark bear with white eyes. Billy followed your gaze, finished his cigarette and got to work. He scored one basket, two baskets, three baskets… his friends kept cheering him on.

You weren’t surprised—he’d had a basketball scholarship before moving to Hawkins, after all. He was skilled… and he was not too humble to show it.

Four baskets… five. The stall owner started clapping. “You actually did it, young man! The black one, yes?”

You grinned from ear to ear when he handed it to you and Billy nodded triumphantly.

“Let’s go, guys. I need a beer…” Billy’s friends cheered once more and yet, Billy did not move an inch. His blue eyes locked with yours and for just a split second, you felt yourself unable to move as he approached and leaned down to you seductively.

“Do I get something in return for your new friend?” he asked. His hand sneaked around your waist, pulling you close as you finally started walking, a few feet behind his bickering friends. The massive teddy bear almost covered you whole.

You smiled up at him, shaking your head slightly before standing on your tiptoes to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Billy. See, you can be sweet after all.”

And if you could be certain he wasn’t just trying to woo you…

Billy snorted, smiling mischievously. “And what do I need to do to earn a proper kiss?”

You glanced up at the Ferris Wheel—he followed your gaze, then looked you in the eyes again, smirking.

“Let’s go then.”

“What about your beer?”

Billy paused for a moment, pretending to ponder with his index finger tapping against his chin. “Hmm… an overpriced beer at the fun fair or a kiss from a beautiful girl… that’s a hard decision to make.”

“You’re so cocksure, aren’t you?”

“But it’s working.”

You sighed. Yeah. Unfortunately, it was.

A/N: Check out my blog for more Imagines and my original novel(s)! ♥

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #dacre montgomery

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 1 year

Text

BEAUTIFUL!

in a relationship with him (prompt list)

gender neutral reader

ISAGI YOICHI!

kisses on the cheek when someone leaves the room!

Does it come to anybody’s surprise when the egoistic, somewhat selfish striker has a possessive streak when it comes to you? Not really, and for the most part, Isagi does a good job at keeping his wild side under control when it comes to his love life. But even then, there are moments where he likes to establish that he’s your boyfriend, and it becomes a habit for the two of you to share kisses or check in on one another frequently. He gets a little sulky if you don’t give him a kiss before either of you leave the room, and everyone can tell that you’ve kissed him because Isagi’s grinning like an idiot for the next 30 minutes. He gets all shy and starts denying things when his friends tease him, but he’d rather die than go without your kisses. If you do it in front of his friends subconsciously, the Blue Lock boys are never going to let Isagi hear the end of it.

“Headed out?” You looked up from the pile of laundry you were sorting through to see your boyfriend grabbing his jacket, obviously headed for the front door. “Are you going to be gone for long?”

“Not too long!” Isagi replied. He haphazardly yanked his shoes on, all of his usual grace on the playing field gone to be replaced with the slightly awkward yet precious boy you loved. “Bachira said he had something he needed to show me in person, so I’m going to hang with him for a bit.”

You stood up to venture near him, smoothing down his jacket collar while Isagi double-checked everything to make sure he was ready to head out. “Sounds fun. Tell him I said hi, okay? Oh, and if you’re going to get anything to eat, make sure to grab me something too.”

“Gotcha.” Isagi beamed at you, and you nearly melted at the sight. It didn’t matter to you how long you had been with him or how adjusted you’ve gotten to the everyday occurrence of being with him, your heart still overflowed with love for your boyfriend. Soccer star or not, you couldn’t imagine life without him by your side.

“Okay. Have fun!” You waved him off. “Stay safe too.”

The boy didn’t budge at all. Isagi gave you a knowing look, shaking his head. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

It was your turn to smile, and leaning forward, you planted a small kiss to the corner of his mouth. The boy giggled quietly, and his hands moved to yank you in for a quick hug. You couldn’t help but continue to sneak kisses onto his face, leaving the two of you in a tangle of breathless laughter and the clock ticking.

Oh well, Isagi mused, Bachira wouldn’t mind waiting a few more minutes.

KUNIGAMI RENSUKE!

being unable to be mad for a long time!

Kunigami has never been afraid to speak his mind, and he has never been one to shy away from confrontation when he thinks it’s necessary. And for the most part, he’s also good at keeping his relationships with other people peaceful, using his clear mind to settle disputes in a fair manner. But there’s a reason why people compare love to a battlefield, and some days are harder than others. It doesn’t mean that the two of you love each other any less, but that doesn’t mean the bumps in the road will magically disappear in the name of love. Lucky for you though, Kunigami hates being mad at anyone, and he’s quick to reflect on the situation and try to smooth things over. Even when you’re brooding, he finds it hard to stay angry, and while it might annoy you a little, he thinks you’re cute even when you’re sulking. Take it however you want; all Kunigami wants to do is quit fighting and curl up with you to cuddle.

In all honesty, Kunigami stopped being mad a long time ago. You’re still curled on the couch, sitting a few feet away from him in a bad mood. All he wanted to do is kick back and throw a movie on the TV, and his hands itched to grab you and yank you into his lap. But instead, you’re reading a book, and you’re doing an awfully good job at being mad (which, obviously, Kunigami has failed at doing a long time ago).

“Look…,” he started out. You hummed under your breath, not fully acknowledging him but letting him know that you were listening. Kunigami scooted a little bit closer. “I know today hasn’t been the best, but… you wanna watch something? I don’t even have it in me to keep fighting, and I really want to be with you.”

He could see you pause, your fingers hovering over the page, and he knew he had you. Using that for a new push of courage, Kunigami wrapped his arms carefully around your neck, and he pulled you close to his broad chest. He can feel your smaller form breathing calmly against his frame, and his heart squeezed with affection.

Even when mad, Kunigami can’t help but be horribly infatuated with you.

You gave a defeated smile, slotting yourself into your usual spot in his lap. “You make it really hard for me to be mad. God, how can I be mad when you’re being this sweet to me? Makes me feel like the bad guy.”

“I’m the bad guy for upsetting you. C’mon, let’s put this behind us,” he murmured. You smiled as he pressed a flurry of light kisses to the top of your head, and he felt around the couch for the remote. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

MIKAGE REO!

craving your company after a stressful day!

Reo has always been more than capable his entire life. There’s nothing he hasn’t been able to do, and whatever he’s wanted has always been in his grasp. But on the other side of the coin, Reo’s a horrible perfectionist and a hard worker—a little bit too hooked on hard work, if you give your opinion. Not only does he have to balance his responsibilities as Mikage corporation’s heir but he has his own worries with his soccer career as well. He’s used to long nights with little breaks and huge swaths of time dedicated solely to taking care of all of his business, but he’d be lying if he said the emotional toll didn’t rack up on him often. It’s these nights that he wraps his work up early and heads home, where he’s greeted by you with open arms and the promise of relaxation. He finds himself wandering to wherever you are whenever he gets stressed, and the boy practically melts in your arms. He refuses to leave your embrace until he’s satisfied.

“You know…,” you murmured, smoothing out Reo’s tangled hair with your fingers, “You really ought to hire an assistant. Or a secretary. It’s not healthy for you to work this much when you’re not practicing soccer, and vice versa. It’s one thing to work two jobs, but it’s another thing to be a company heir AND a pro athlete.”

Reo mumbled something against your chest, his voice muffled by your body and your clothes. “Mm… I can handle it. I’ve done it up until now.”

“But that doesn’t mean it’s healthy. It’s going to catch up to you one day,” you sighed. You knew he was only half-listening, sleep already clinging heavy to the tired heir. He had already started tuning your words out a long time ago, having gotten all comfortable in your shared bed and settled down in your arms. You looked down at him with a defeated sigh, and you shook your head lovingly.

“I guess I’m your solution until then, huh?” You traced your thumb over his closed eyelid, slowly dragging your thumb over the soft skin. “Who would have imagined? Mikage Reo, the man who has everything, curled up like a baby in my arms.”

Reo let out a half-coherent noise, and you bit back a giggle, not wanting to rouse him. You leaned your head down to kiss his forehead, silently wishing him some well-earned rest. One night wouldn’t fix his horrible workaholic tendencies or all the other things he needed to catch up on, but you could at least let him refuel when he could. There was no place he loved falling asleep more than in your arms, and nothing in the world could wrench him away from where he was right now.

“Well, I guess you are my baby,” you whispered into his skin. “Sweet dreams. You have to take better care of yourself. I’ll scold you properly once you’re awake tomorrow, silly.”

OTOYA EITA!

always pointing out certain annoying behavior!

It’s almost like Otoya considers it to be his job to be that one friend who’s always pointing out annoying little things. Except for you, he’s your boyfriend. And he loves pestering you for your reactions. For the most part, you don’t mind—he means it in harmless fun. But that still doesn’t stop him from pointing out every time you start chewing on your lip out of nervousness or refusing to open an umbrella indoors due to superstition. He’ll tease you about it until you’re pouting and smacking at him to quit it, all to laugh about how cute you are when you’re annoyed at him, earning him another barrage of smacks. Despite being the number one thorn in your side, Otoya hates it when other people annoy you. That’s his job, and he’s your boyfriend. The moment anyone even so much as starts to bother you, he’s right there and playing the “tough guy” act. He’s a fool in love, even if it means taking you down with him.

You tapped your foot on the train, clutching onto the metal pole with Otoya standing right behind you. While the subway zipped through its dark tunnels, you could make out your anxious reflection being shown back at you through the clear windows. And like a guardian angel, Otoya was also reflected right behind you, beanie yanked down over his white hair rather than an angel’s telltale halo.

“You’re tapping your foot again,” he pointed out. “You only do that when you take the train.”

You nervously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “It’s because I get nervous. The train’s scary! What if it crashes? What happens to us then?”

Otoya glanced around, taking note of all the safety measures and how nonchalantly the other passengers were acting. “Well… That happening is super rare to begin with. And technology is so good nowadays that even if the train crashes, they have, like, a bajillion stuff put in place to make sure we’ll be okay.”

“And what if that fails too? You always have to prepare for the worst, Otoya!” You weren’t convinced. Your foot tapping only increased, and Otoya let out a wry grin before pulling you into a hug behind.

He tugged his beanie down slightly, leaning so that his mouth was right by your ear. He whispered, “Easy. I’ll protect you.”

Pure disgust fluttered across your face. You swung at his arm, shrieking slightly. “You’re so cheesy! Ew, ew, ew, that’s the worst thing I’ve heard my entire life!”

Otoya laughed it off, holding his hands up in mock surrender. You continued to smack him in the arm, earning a few concerned stares from those around you, but none of your punches actually ever hurt him.

And Otoya didn’t mind it either. His cheesiness seemed to have done the trick at distracting you from your anxieties. He grinned sloppily, sporting the same playboy-like face he always did whenever you got rough with him.

“See? There you go.” He held onto you, even amidst your squirming. “You’ve stopped tapping your foot.”

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #isagi yoichi #kunigami rensuke #mikage reo #otoya eita #x reader #my writing

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phantasmiafxndom · 1 year

Note

Hello! I really love your writing! Since the kny requests are open, can I request Kny Pet AU hcs for Hantengu's clones (the main 4) ? It's up to you if you want to add nsfw stuff, i don't mind🌸

I've been issued a challenge, I see. XD I really didn't care about these guys until I started really thinking about their characters, but now I'm getting kind of invested...

(Shout-out to @krystalwithakay, who helped with this one~)

. . .

General/Group

• In this setting, the four of them are more like brothers than clones; at the very least, the "original" isn't around anymore. They were too much for their original owner to handle, so they wound up locked away in an overcrowded cage and left to fight over whatever minimal scraps of food and care they received. This did not do their mental states any good— before long, they devolved into constant squabbling and competition, to the point where restraints quickly become necessary to prevent further harm.

• By now, all four of them are half-feral and extremely difficult to handle. Nearly impossible to get close to, they're dangerously aggressive with humans, other demons, and each other; and being kept constantly starved, restrained, and agitated has done absolutely nothing to help that. The concept of a better life is always out of reach, leaving all of them hopeless and miserable.

Sekido

• He's been used in fights before (as one attempt at finding some use for him), and the results are messy. Without enough food and rest to heal properly, Sekido's body is covered in scars and old, poorly healed injuries. The extensive damage results in near-constant pain— and always feeling hurt and threatened only makes him more aggressive. He lashes out like a cornered animal, responding violently to everything because he can only anticipate more pain. A lot of his outward anger is a defensive mechanism.

• All of that rage usually hurts him more than anyone else. Sekido is so tense that it becomes an extra strain on his body; he struggles until he's worn down what little spare energy he had, to begin with, and his unfortunate habit of fighting restraints until he messes up his body too badly to keep going is responsible for a fair amount of his scars. And yet, there's no making himself stop. He's reactive to the point of being unable to control it anymore.

Karaku

• He's been used for sex before, with a very specific condition to keep him from mauling anyone who tries. Karaku has an odd, unintentional reaction to any kind of physical pleasure— his brain all but shuts off completely, leaving him pliant and non-aggressive until the response wears off. Thus, if he's drugged or handled just enough to make him shut down, he's plenty easy to use. The brief respite from misery, even if it means being put through such unpleasant handling, is too much of a temptation for him to care.

• It's easy for him to grow addicted to anything that makes him feel good, even if the aftermath is worse. Karaku has some highly escapist tendencies, where if he gets any chance to stop thinking and feel something other than pain, he gets desperate for it. He knows by now that most humans won't ever offer that sort of thing, though, and is every bit as aggressive and volatile as the other three until some possibility of pleasure arises.

Aizetsu

• In a constant state of misery, he's reached a point of barely being able to do more than lie around and wait for someone to finally decide he's better off dead. By now, Aizetsu doesn't have any hope left for himself (or any of the rest of them), and his naturally pessimistic nature doesn't help that. Crying himself sick only adds to how awful he feels— and he's most often too caught up in his negativity to respond to much of anything. He's the only one who (mostly) stays out of the four's constant fights.

• Aizetsu is prone to semi-accidental self-harm; tearing gashes in his skin from clawing at himself in distress, biting and chewing his fingers until they bleed, and making himself physically ill from sheer stress. However, he's also unconsciously drawn to self-comforting behaviors in any form that he can get. He lacks enough appetite or will to live to make himself fight for whatever scraps they're all given, so his body is weak and wasted away.

Urogi

• He's way too high-strung for his own good, and far too easily overexcited. Urogi is the one who keeps getting his hopes up over every little sign that anything good might happen... and suffering all the more for it when those hopes are inevitably crushed. He's always agitated and fidgety, and tends to pull at his restraints well past the point of blood just because he can't stay still. Thanks to his utter lack of volume control, he's often kept in a sound-triggered shock collar just so he'll be less of an annoyance.

• Urogi's wings were once cut off as a way of trying to make him easier to contain. They grew back soon enough, but his poor living conditions meant that the regrowth didn't happen how it should. He's incapable of flight in his current state, with near-constant pain from the poorly healed limbs. They only become more unbearably uncomfortable when the feathers molt, which is a process awful enough to put even him in a miserable mood.

#Kimetsu no Yaiba #KnY #Hantengu #Sekido #Karaku #Aizetsu #Urogi #Headcanon #Reader #Pet Au

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practical-tactical-brilliance · 1 year

Text

I’m Willing to Wait for It. (Part 1)

Aaron Burr x f!reader

Set 5 days before the Battle of Long Island. Reader is a spy working for Washington.

There’s an upsetting lack of Burr x reader fics out there, so this is my contribution to the cause.

———

The young men from the army were a common sight to see, crowded up in the taverns near the docks in New York Harbour. Raucous, pissing themselves and unashamedly eying up the ladies passing by, they were a sight not to behold. You weren’t expecting to stay for long with such company if you could help it.

Brusquely you made a short circuit around the bar, eyes searching the room, but failing to find the familiar face of someone you were meant to meet with here.

Wolf whistles and the occasional lewd commentary followed you as you found yourself a little nook away from the larger crowds where you could wait for your friend. He had a habit of being late after all and you had time to entertain yourself with watching the antics of those solider boys parading themselves about like peacocks.

From the other end of the room, Alexander Hamilton and his friends John Laurens, Lafayette and Aaron Burr watched you with interest. You were new in this establishment which meant that you were an opportunity.

“Say, where’s Mulligan when you need him?” Lauren’s exclaimed. “He’d be kicking himself if he weren’t here to try and talk such a lovely lady into his bed.”

“I daresay that leaves her fair game to the rest of us then. She holds herself gracefully, I bet she must come from money.” Hamilton jokes.

“Who is she and what family does she belong to? I’ve never seen her before.” Burr questioned with intrigue. He gazed over toward her, and somehow, as if she could feel the heat of his eyes on her, she picked him out from the crowd and returned his stare. It was not a stare of charm, or abashed chasteness that greeted him, but more titillating, it was calm and assessing. His first instinct was to turn away in shame, but his experience made him hold her gaze and respond with a light smile. This was his chance.

“I have absolutely no idea either, but maybe you might care to tell us when you two have a little heart to heart over there, Burr? Looks like someone’s caught her eye.” Hamilton cheekily announced to their circle.

“Oui, you should move quickly mon amie, before another one gets the chance to talk to her!” Lafayette was always the brilliant optimist of their circle, pushing people to try their hardest in all sorts of situations even if the odds were against them.

Although Burr was quite sure that the odds would be in his favour this time.

“I’ll be taking my leave tonight then, gentlemen!” He said as he excused himself from the group.

Weaving around the crowded room, toward you, you saw the man who you locked eyes with was fast approaching. Aaron Burr, you noted. You knew of him and his genius predisposition as well as his status as a young man of growing influence. But you also knew from many accounts that he was an opportunist and a rake.

“Excuse me, my lady, I couldn’t help but notice your exquisite face from afar, may I know what sweet name belongs to a beauty such as yourself?” Without a moment more, he smoothly takes the seat opposite you before anyone else can.

“You speak so kindly, Colonel Burr, my name is Y/N.” You responded in neutrality, you would be waiting otherwise and you supposed that a little flirting wouldn’t hurt in the meantime.

“Ahh, I see that you know of me.”

“It’s hard not to when you’re living in New York. The gossip is always rife.”

“What brings you here tonight? It is unusual to see such lovely woman here alone.”

“I’m here for business, and I’m waiting for someone to arrive.”

“Business? A client?” Burr raised his eyebrows in surprise, was she an escort?

“Business related to the war effort.” You corrected with a blush, realising the misunderstanding.

“Ahh. I must ask what side of the war you are on then.”

Before you could answer again, the shadow of Hercules Mulligan, your contact, towered over Burr.

“Burr! I’m not surprised to see you here, and I see you’ve just already acquainted yourself with Miss Y/N.”

The look of curiosity crossed Burr’s face. How on earth did you know Mulligan? And what role did you play in the revolution?

At the arrival of your contact you relaxed, and without further ado, you turned to your admirer and began to shoo him off. “Mr Burr, I’m afraid Mr Mulligan and I will be discussing some things in private tonight, but it was lovely to meet you.”

“Burr’s a good friend, Miss Y/N and I’m sure he won’t let anything from this conversation leave our little circle, will you, Burr?” Mulligan countered, he must have trusted Burr a lot to let him in on the secret intelligence mission you were working on.

“Of course not, anything said here tonight stays between us.”

This was not the protocol you followed. But you knew Mulligan enough to know that he chose his friends carefully and that he would never invite someone that he didn’t trust to engage in such a sensitive conversation.

“I trust your judgement Mr Mulligan. Bring up a chair then and we’ll get started.”

Over the next hour you gave him explicit details on the movements of the British army that you had gleaned over the course of the week. Things that you were absolutely certain of and plans that were yet unconfirmed. Your position was unique in that it allowed you to move between the American and British side of operations without being questioned.

You were employed to teach the children of a long string of British officers who had started their families in colonies which put you in an advantageous and secure position to gather intelligence for the revolutionary cause. After all, the way to a parent’s heart is through their children, and nobody asks questions of a teacher who is adored by their kids.

“…and there will be an attack, five days from now that there is to be an attack on New York harbour and Long Island when the British fleet arrive. They’re expecting 10 line ships, 20 frigates and 170 transports. 32,000 men.” You said quietly.

“My god. We are unprepared for such conflict.” Mulligan exclaimed, flabbergasted by the revelation. Burr said nothing, although the colour drained from his face immediately. It must be hard to be in his shoes, you thought. The responsibility of leading these men to battle must weigh heavily on him.

You nodded, deep in thought. It would be a bloodbath. How many of these young mirthful men would be here again to tell the tale in 5 days time when all was said and done? Many had never even been in battle before.

“Is that everything you have to report today, Miss?” Mulligan started up again after a brief silence at the table.

“That’s everything.”

“Thank you for the information, I’ll be passing it on to General Washington as soon as I reach him tonight. Hopefully there will be aid for us or another way to defeat the British when they arrive.” Shaking hands with you, he took his leave, but not before turning to Burr. “You should be grateful we have a good spy network. Y/N is one of our best, you should thank her in advance for saving your ass.” He chuckled, clapping his friend on the shoulder before slipping off into the night, leaving the two of you alone again.

“I’m assuming this wasn’t quite the direction you were expecting tonight to take, was it, Colonel Burr?”

“Please, just Aaron. And no, it wasn’t quite what I was expecting, but thank you all for your service to the country.” He bowed his head in newfound respect and awe for your work.

“I could say the same for you. Aaron. You responded with a smile. You tested the name, it was certainly less of a mouthful than ‘Colonel Burr.’

“And I also trust that you will keep my position a secret from your friends?”

“They will be none the wiser, you can trust me.” Burr assured you.

“Thank you. I should be heading home now that Mr Mulligan and I have finished up. Your company tonight was most welcome and flattering, Aaron. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of your night.”

“It would be my absolute pleasure to walk you home if you’d like. The streets here are not the safest at night and at the very least, maybe I can provide you with some entertaining conversation to pass the time.” Aaron pleaded.

“I wouldn’t be opposed, but I don’t want to deprive you of the company of your friends.”

“I don’t think they’re expecting me again if I’m being honest.” He said coyly.

Uh huh.

You fought hard to not wrinkle your nose in disgust at his suggestiveness. They were not wrong when they said he was reliable with the ladies. You absolutely were not going to be offering him tea and biscuits when you got home.

“It is late, and I won’t be able to offer you room and board at my home.” You warned him.

“The pleasure of walking with you is more than a reward for me.”

“Shall we get going then?”

#aaron burr #aaron burr x reader #burr x reader #hamilton the musical #hamilton x reader #alexander hamilton #john laurens #marquis de lafayette #hercules mulligan #Hamilton

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dr3amofagame · 2 months

Note

yeah like cdream is someone who is not very good talking and has problems with communication, he never was someone that made other characthers want to follow him and stuff and sometimes was a dick but the thing it's how people just used him being reserved to talk over him and stripping him out of his autonomy and humanity and treating him like less than a animal

like ... to be fair to people, dream was dogshit at communicating for like, a lot of the server. he really didn't let anyone on that things bothered him until pressed, and then when pressed framed things in practical objective ways that made him come off more authoritative than bothered by the way he was treated. really, honestly, it's not even until like, around the exile conflict where he's communicating at all abt his feelings and by then he's also lying half the time and purposefully crafting a dishonest mask of himself to project towards people to make them think that he's a crazy murderous person that has to be locked away? and also was losing his whole mind.

even if we look at stuff like, lmanburg, isn't it telling that the only people he's talking about being bothered by lmanburg to is ... like, skeppy. or being upset abt his houses being bulldozed and griefed to sapnap and george. he's not really made it a habit of communicating to other people, especially the people that are doing the things that are bothering him, that he's you know. got an issue with it? and when he does do that communication it's like, stuff like "give me back the things you stole immediately. or i kill your pets" ASKFJLAS like

like, and even then, right, c!dream still had quite a lot of friendly interactions with people on the server? i wouldn't say he was all around hated early on--but he was seen as someone kind of unpredictable, kind of Weird As Hell, kind of morally eeeeh with lmanburg's influence on his reputation. He was the big bad in lmanburg but mostly he was just, a guy that was around and could sometimes give you lots of shit and could sometimes be kind of a dick. like it's just--there's a lot w/ c!dream where people did stuff that freaked him out not really meaning to, because there's a sort of trophy-like nature attributed to THEEE dream, and then c!dream didn't exactly communicate either and would sometimes play into people's assumptions there, but overall the balance of it all was sustainable and people generally were able to interact peacably (or at least, solve their disputes so they wouldn't be permanent issues) until manberg/pogtopia up to november 16th really had everything get really serious for everyone in a short period of time. between the revive book's effects on c!dream's, everything, and the way that manberg/pogtopia is really the nail in the coffin for his reputation (and you know, a natural consequence of his guy not telling anyone shit except for apparently like the people he absolutely shouldn't have been telling shit? and also literally DIED???) and just everyone being a mess after the whole debacle, things just...snowballed out of control in a way that they couldn't really re-settle back to being normal the way they had before

#my asks !!#like look he's just really really bad at talking to people literally always

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almost-a-class-act · 3 months

Note

hi I saw your recent post in the tag, so um are you taking Givenson prompts? bc if you are can I request a "9. . .out of fear" from that "things you said" list please? I hope that's okay!

Hello! Thanks for the request! I am just now finding my way in the Justified fandom so I'm excited to hear from new pals.

The prompt was: "Things you said out of fear"

It’s the second hat Raylan has lost to a bullet, an “if I had a nickel” sort of situation if ever there was one – except that he’d been able to play down the first one pretty effectively on account of no one currently alive in Harlan County having been there to see it except Loretta.

The second time, he isn’t so lucky.

The sequence of events, as described to him afterward – they’re somewhat muddled in his own recollection, for obvious reasons – are as follows. The bullet passes through his hat, not quite clean, grazing his head. Raylan goes down, as does the fellow who took the shot (cheap, through a window while Raylan stood on the porch), because taking the shot had given him away and Tim needs less than that to punch a ticket at four hundred meters.

By the time he sits up, people are running, which is a relief because it means the situation is going to be handled by someone other than him. Getting shot in the head is no less disorienting than it had been the first time, the sort of thing where you’re scared to touch it in case it’s so much worse than you think. Tim is running, too, and he hurtles up onto the porch, one knee coming down hard on the wood so that he can hunch in and comb away the hair that’s hiding the wound spilling blood down Raylan’s face.

“Think you’re gonna live?” Tim asks, tone as even as it always is, even as his fingertips press into Raylan’s scalp, checking for himself.

“For my sins,” Raylan replies. “Ouch. Do you mind?”

“Looks okay,” Tim says, ignoring him. “Some stitches, maybe.”

Everything is a churn around them, and Raylan patiently lets an EMT with much gentler hands deal with the wound while Tim leaves the porch to congregate in a group with Art and Rachel, within eyesight. Once the bandage is in place, Raylan figures he’s got the okay to do the paperwork on this one tomorrow, and catches Tim’s eye.

They’re only just outside of Lexington, which means the drive isn’t the long slog from Harlan County, and they’re home in twenty minutes. Raylan has a hunch that Tim has a rant locked and loaded, but on the drive all he engages in is a smattering of shop talk – not uncommon for them, to be fair.

In the apartment, Raylan makes his way in the dark to the kitchen, searching out bourbon to cure what ails him. He can see Tim through the doorway to the living room out of the corner of his eye, yanking the curtains across, stopping to scratch the cat behind the ears.

Tim used to closed the curtains on Raylan’s bedroom window every time he came by, too. There aren’t any sightlines to worry about in the apartment they live in now, but it seems to be a force of habit anyway.

And then the light comes on, and Tim is leaning in the kitchen doorway.

“Shoot,” Raylan says, holding up the bottle mutely to ask if Tim wants a pour. He shakes his head.

“Don’t ask me to cover you and then do dumbass shit like stand out in the open.”

“I wasn’t doing dumbass shit,” Raylan says patiently.

“You could teach a college course in doing dumbass shit. Do you think if I wanted to live with anyone else, I’d be living with you?” Tim demands. “You use my mouthwash and you keep letting the cat out.”

“By accident.”

“The circumstances of the situation don’t matter. The cat is still outside at the end.”

Raylan is not going to smile, because Tim is clearly very serious about this, but sometimes the things that come out of Tim��s mouth are very… well, Tim. “Are you telling me not to get myself killed because I’m your last resort?”

“I’m telling you not to get shot in the head.”

He turns and vanishes from the doorway. Raylan has stopped with his glass halfway to his mouth.

“Tim.”

There’s no response, and Raylan drains his glass and follows after. He finds him in the bedroom, enacting the same routine as every night, the same things he would do in the same order no matter the circumstances: Boots, watch, clothes come off, putting on that soft, worn-in Dragonriders of Pern t-shirt and shorts, disappearing into the bathroom to brush his teeth. He always looks young in pajamas, standing at the sink with toothbrush in hand, and Raylan starts to reach for him because sometimes those odd, tense lines in his body don’t go away on their own.

“Don’t touch me,” Tim says pointedly, around his toothbrush, and Raylan redirects.

When they get into bed, sometimes Tim stays up to read while Raylan dozes next to him, but tonight he braces up on his elbow and turns off the light. There might be forty-five seconds of silence, and then Tim rolls over and tucks a proprietary arm around Raylan’s middle, tugging him in until he has Raylan bundled in clumsily against his chest. Raylan lets himself be big-spooned, though he can’t help his bemusement.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you.”

“This is me touching you,” Tim mumbles into the back of his neck.

“Got it.”

“Go to sleep." The edge in Tim's voice from before has gone down a little. Now I can keep you where I can see you. “You do less dumbass shit when you’re sleeping.”

#givenson #justified #tim gutterson #raylan givens #fanfiction #roaroftheninth

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