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jinwoosungs · 2 years

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{ 07 }

- sharing a bed together with the first years -

featuring: megumi fushiguro; yuji itadori; + nobara kugisaki x fem.reader

-separate imagines-

[ megumi fushiguro ]

gojo satoru was a bastard-

and he knew it.

ever since your nosy teacher found out about your crush on megumi fushiguro, you could have sworn gojo was doing all that he could to set you up on "romantic encounters" with your fellow classmate.

and it was driving you damn near up the wall.

megumi was so stoic and emotionless through it all that you were 100% certain he wasn't catching on. in fact, the only thing he commented on was how often you were paired together.

and today was no different.

your latest mission had taken you and megumi to the heart of shibuya, researching on some age old curse that was tormenting a certain area of the city.

after doing a quick reconnaissance mission, gojo had given you orders to return back to the destined hotel and to rest and wait for further instructions. he had promised you that the room would have two separate, queen-sized beds-

so imagine your horror upon seeing a single king sized bed settled in the middle of your hotel room.

the bastard had purposely lied to you, and you swore if you had to sleep at such a close proximity to megumi, then you were going to spontaneously combust.

in contrast to your panic, megumi was as calm and tranquil as an untouched pond, unfazed and disinterested as he dropped his duffel bag on the provided couch all while asking, "is there a spot you'd rather have? i'm cool with taking whatever side."

"u-uhm that's okay, fushiguro, i-i can just sleep on the couch or something."

the young man scowls at you, "are you kidding me? the couch barely has enough room, and it can't transform into a futon. it's more practical to just sleep on the bed."

well, when he put it that way, it was clear that megumi wouldn't relent and allow you to sleep away from him. you sigh and come to agree with him with a heavy heart.

staking your claim on the left side of the bed, you watch as megumi takes the right side. hoping to try and relax, you tell him that you were going to take a shower, grabbing your pajamas before immediately locking yourself into the bathroom.

the shower did little to calm your nerves. despite how much you turned the faucet to pelt you with the hottest droplets of water, you couldn't stop your heart from racing at the thought of sharing the same bed with him.

after spending thirty minutes in the shower, you let out a deep sigh and shut off the water. maybe if you get out now, you can pretend to sleep if he decides to take a shower himself.

with you now fully dressed, you continue to dry yourself as the leftover droplets were seen running down your neck. megumi looks over to say something to you, only to fall short. his eyes were uncharacteristically wide while his mouth kept opening and closing.

this behavior was odd, and you figured the shampoo the hotel provided smelled strange or something. yet when you took a sniff at your body, you could only detect the mild scent of lavenders.

before you could ask megumi what was wrong, he quickly excuses himself all while slamming the bathroom door. the annoyance was clear on his face, and you figured it truly was best for you to fall asleep as soon as possible to avoid further upsetting him.

you get under the covers, having every intention of letting sleep consume you-

but when you heard the shower turn on, all you could think about was how hot megumi must look naked beneath the shower's spray. you had seen his body a few times throughout the weeks you spent together at school, which was admittedly what had made you develop such an intense infatuation with him.

speaking of infatuation, you could already feel your heart beat even faster from within your chest. the feeling coupled along with the butterflies that took over your stomach made you feel so sick all of a sudden.

and there was no way you could do this.

just when you were about to get out of bed and demand to be in another room, megumi appears out of the bathroom. dressed only in a dark pair of sweatpants, you could see the way the water ran down his perfectly sculpted body, making you squeak as you buried your face within the blankets. you were too damn embarrassed to move, and with how good megumi looked, you had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

not questioning your weird behavior, you hear megumi walk across the room to shut off the lights. blanketed in complete darkness, you couldn't help but tremble, feeling the bed dip with megumi's added weight.

for several minutes, the only sounds that were heard were both of your breathings. you tried to keep your breathing as even as possible, yet it was almost impossible for you to do so. you were just so nervous.

megumi made you nervous.

and the fact that you liked him so much made it all the more difficult.

clenching your eyes shut, you willed yourself to not think about it.

don't think about how soft megumi's hair looked after a shower.

don't think about how he was laying next to you, half naked with only a pair of sweats hanging from his hips.

don't think about how good he smelled.

or how-

your thoughts were suddenly cut off when you finally fell asleep. admittedly, it was the type of restless slumber, where your limbs seemed to take on a mind of its own, moving all across the mattress all while seeking some form of warmth.

the temperature had suddenly dropped within the hotel room due to the automatic air conditioning. as the cold air blew into the room, you found yourself reaching out to megumi in your sleep. you didn't stop moving toward him until you were a tangle of limbs, with your face pressed against his shoulder and his chin resting on top of your head.

only when you felt the steady heartbeat against your skin did you open your eyes and let out a gasp.

your entire body was pressed against megumi's, with your chest against his chest as a wave of dizziness washes over you. your face felt hot, and when you tried to push him away, he ends up tightening his grip on you.

"don't move away from me." you shyly meet his gaze, only to find him blushing down at you. "it's cold in here, and you're warm."

gripping the back of your neck, he hides your face within his chest to prevent you from seeing his flustered expression.

"go to sleep."

hearing his heart begin to race, you couldn't help but smile, nuzzling yourself even closer to megumi as you felt yourself smiling against his skin.

maybe gojo wasn't such a bastard after all.

[ yuji itadori ]

"whoa, this is so cool! we get to share a room together!"

you barely had time to put your belongings down when yuji ran to you and wrapped his arms around you. his enthusiasm makes you giggle, and you swore that if he was a puppy, you'd see his tail wagging with excitement.

but there seemed to be a glaring issue that yuji was ignoring.

"uhm, you do realize there's only one bed, right?"

as if hearing your question for the first time, yuji looks behind him to see that you were indeed correct. settled in the corner of the room was a single queen-sized bed, but that didn't deter yuji in the slightest.

"that's okay, you can have the bed! i'll just spread some bedsheets on the floor, just throw me a pillow and-"

"absolutely not!" you refused to let yuji sleep on the floor. it was like making a cute puppy sleep all by himself in a cold and dark attic-

okay, maybe you were exaggerating just the tiniest bit, but just the thought of yuji being on the cold, hard floor was painful enough.

"yuji, we can share the bed! there's plenty of room for us! besides, it'll be like our own personal sleepover!"

you could see the way yuji's eyes lit up with happiness. "awesome, it's a deal!"

you were happy to say that there was no drama when it came to you and yuji preparing for bed. after taking a bath and getting comfortable in your respective sleeping clothes, you each fell into bed and began talking about all sorts of things.

you adored yuji so much; he was whom you considered to be your best friend and main confidant when you had issues in your life. as you listened to yuji and the way he whispers excitedly to you, you felt your eyelids grow heavier and heavier.

and you were so comfortable that you fell asleep instantly while laying beside your best friend.

your dreams were a bit muddled, yet you swore you felt someone gently touching at your face. they were whispering your name, and you shivered a bit with pleasure when you felt the back of their hand running down your skin.

but something about that touch felt too warm and too real to just be a dream. slowly, you open your eyes to see yuji still awake with the softest expression on his face.

his chocolate brown eyes were honed in on your features, appearing as though he were yearning for you. it was a face you had never seen him make before, and the fact that it was directed at you made you feel all sorts of emotions.

you end up surprising yuji when you place a hand over his, making him gasp when he nearly jumps out of bed. he lets out a shaky cry of your name, yet you did your best to remain calm.

"yuji, i've never felt you touch me so gently before." you shut your eyes and keep the palm of his hand against your cheek. "it's nice."

it was now yuji's turn to feel embarassed, turning a beet red as he shyly inches closer to you. "c-can i tell you a secret?"

"of course."

you open your eyes to see yuji swallow thickly before admitting, "i like you."

"i know." you tell him all while letting out a soft laugh. "i like you, too. and to prove it-"

wanting to see his reaction, you press a kiss against the tip of his nose, earning a surprised squeak from him as his whole face began to turn red in response to your little kiss.

who knew your boyfriend could be so adorable?

[ nobara kugisaki ]

"hey, what are you reading?"

nobara, being the clingy girl that she was, immediately wraps her arms around your shoulders. she affectionately nuzzles your cheek, trailing her eyes over the novel you were currently reading.

"ugh, how boring." she immediately takes the novel away from you, tossing it to the other side of the room as you scolded her. "n-nobara! what was that for?!"

"come on, we just landed a sweet hotel and all you wanna do is read? let's order room service and eat all the cakes we want in bed!"

"you can go ahead and do that. i would like to avoid having a stomachache, thank you very much!"

"suit yourself~" her voice trills as she picks up the phone to order her cakes while you went to pick up your book and continue to read where you left off.

when the cakes arrived, you found yourself not paying attention to nobara as you were sucked into the storyline of your book. the plot had you on the edge of your seat, and you found yourself wanting to know more with each new chapter.

you were halfway through your novel when you finally realized how late it was getting and how stiff your body felt from sitting in one position for too long. as you stretched out your legs, you felt the crumpling of cupcake wrappers beneath your feet and scowled.

"you made such a mess!" before you could scold nobara for not throwing away her trash, you felt the words become trapped in your throat the moment you saw her fast asleep while curled next to you in bed.

despite her rambunctious nature and extroverted personality, nobara was quite the beauty. you had always admired just how pretty she was, often comparing her to the sun with her ginger hair and bright eyes.

even now, with cake crumbs and half eaten cookies surrounding her, you found her to be achingly beautiful. as if caught in a spell, you feel yourself inching closer to her, taking in her peach tinted lips and the way her eyelashes brush against her skin. your hand reaches out to brush her hair back, only to have it caught within nobara's tight grip.

almost immediately, you were pushed back in bed with nobara smiling slyly. she hovers over you, all while cooing, "it's about time my precious girlfriend gave me some attention. i was truly about to give myself a tummy ache had you not stopped reading, cutie ♡ !"

"nobara, you absolute brat-"

you were cut off when she kisses you, allowing you to taste all the chocolates and frosting from her lips alone.

only nobara could give you the sweetest kisses, and you knew your anger and annoyance had quickly melted the moment her lips met with yours.

a.n. - this little imagine is part of my little gift for all you readers ♡ by some miracle, this blog reached 600 followers and i'm so happy! i had no idea this blog would blow up so much, since all i wanted to do was write down my daydreams and thirst posts and have them all neat and tidy on this one blog. i didn't think anyone would truly enjoy them, but i'm so damn happy that you all do ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x y/n #yuji itadori x reader #itadori yuji x reader #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x y/n #nobara kugisaki x reader #kugisaki nobara x reader #nobara kugisaki x you #nobara kugisaki x y/n #.stories

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lordisitmine · 3 days

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TTNBD BLOG PART SIX

This blog covers chapters seven and eight of the story.

CHAPTER SEVEN – SUMMONING CIRCLES

Black Butler was one of my first fandoms. Not my first anime, by any means, but one of the first series of any kind that I consumed fan content for. I was new to the world of fanfiction back then, certainly not writing it yet. But some of the first fanfiction I read was Sebastian/Ciel.

The first fandom I wrote for was Supernatural. If you look at my works catalogue on AO3, you’ll see it’s the one I’ve written for the most as well. While it wasn’t my first fandom, I consider it my first in that it was the space in which I began to explore and hone my fanfiction writing abilities and specialties. I consider it my origin fandom, in a way. That series, its worldbuilding (or lack thereof) and its tropes make up the background from which I come.

So, when it comes to writing things about rituals and demons and other such things, I’m well-suited to the task. As I said in the last blog, I have an aversion to such things in reality, but in fiction, I’m old hat. I could say I researched ritualistic magic or the occult and took great pains to make it seem accurate to what may have been attempted in real life. But that would be a lie. When it comes to the ritual Lizzy and Sybil perform to summon Sebastian, I really just stitched together bits and pieces from stories I’ve read in the past, seen on TV or intuited from my own hypothetical actions were I in such a situation.

I have several 1899/1900 calendar pages on my wall in my writing space of the months in which the story takes place. It allows me to clearly and easily visualise the timeline of events and not lose track of them, all for the sake of maintaining proper continuity. I like to include references to actual events when appropriate. When Sybil mentions that the night of January 8th, 1900, is the first quarter moon, that’s true! I looked up the lunar charts for January 1900 and picked the soonest day when the moon was doing something definite so I could use it for the ritual. It’s amazing that the information about the phases of the moon from over a hundred years ago is available to us!

Sybil describes the balance of nature, how the sun and moon will be in the sky at the same time, and that will create harmony within the heavens. Lizzy refers to it as “a sort of homeostasis”. Homeostasis is a scientific term used in biology to describe the process by which a living organism maintains stability within itself while adjusting to varying external conditions. The term wasn’t coined until 1926 (I looked it up) but it’s a cool word and I wanted Lizzy to say something smart, because what’s the point of her going to medical school if she hasn’t become a bit of a nerd?

Also, it gives Sybil an excuse to mentally swoon. That, and the bit with the jam. I was trying to keep up the romantic tension and not let it get lost in the plot.

And then DRAT! They are interrupted by Simeon! He’s been out all night- doing what, we just don’t know. I won’t say it here but trust that in the final arc of the story, we’ll get more explanation about Simeon’s activities. Sybil is lying to her dad, thinking he wouldn’t approve of her frankly insane plan. And she’s right- he wouldn’t, but not for the reasons she thinks.

And now, it’s time for the BURNING BRIDES case! This is the case covered in the third episode of the second season of the Black Butler anime, entitled “Wench Butler”. A couple of readers have asked me how I came up with the case, and it reminded me how few people have watched the second season, or at least how few people remember it. I also have not watched it in many, many years, but I’ve taken so many pieces of it for this story.

In the episode, Ciel is assigned a new case by the Queen. There have been a few suspicious deaths- young women, all recently married, have been dying via spontaneous combustion- a truly horrific way to die, if you ask me. In her letter, the Queen mentions her “Spider”, and Ciel is intrigued, not knowing who this other investigator might be (it’s Alois).

Ciel and Sebastian eventually figure out that the victims all had their portraits taken by a pair of photographers- a married couple, the Turners. Margaret Turner, the wife, always wanted a passionate, romantic marriage, but hated her husband and her life and resented these women for their happiness and youth. So, she uses phosphorous powder, normally ignited to make the flash necessary for photography at the time to immolate her victims. When caught, she states that there was “a man with golden eyes” (Claude) who told her that the commission of these crimes would bring her happiness and that he would come to take her away from her sad life. She then commits suicide via the same method she used for the murders.

I kept most of this and just reworked some of the timing and conversations. There was a scene in the episode where Sebastian and Ciel run into Grell Sutcliff- I wanted so BADLY to have Grell appear again, I love her so much, but it was messing with the timing and tension, and it was just a whole extra scene to write, and I wanted to keep the story going. Also, trying to cram in every single character cameo I can think of would muddy the waters too much in my opinion. So, I left it out.

But I wanted to include the case itself. I always really liked the concept of it. And I specialise in re-working canon material. I’ve never been a huge AU person (i.e. high school AU, modern AU, coffee shop AU etc.)- I don’t write them (I think I wrote a Steve/Bucky coffee shop AU ONCE, for a request), and I don’t read them. Everything I write is within the canon of the series I’m writing for; I find that space much more rewarding to play in because there are rules you must stick to but still so many possibilities for what you can achieve and finding that balance is super satisfying. Things like soulmate AUs and stuff are my favourite though because again, they can exist within the boundaries of canon but make things so much more exciting in their own way.

Anyway, enough of my tangents. Back to the story. Ciel and Sebastian are investigating, being cute at a crime scene (what else is new) and they’re being watched. Ciel is not as good at being subtle as he thinks he is, so Claude was able to pick up his scent when Ciel was following him and Alois before- and they’ve decided to return the favour. But they’re also not as subtle as they think they are- cue a rooftop chase.

I like to think that Ciel is really fast. Like, I know Sebastian is fast- we see it all the time. But something about Ciel being slightly smaller makes me think that he might be able to move that much more quickly, though Sebastian will probably never admit it. I can’t wait for the later chapters of the story where Ciel begins to hone his skills. He hasn’t had a reason to properly learn how to move and fight- he and Sebastian have been living in peacetime, so to speak, since the end of TTEOE. But running fast doesn’t require a lot of practise, so Ciel catches Claude and Alois pretty easily.

Good God, Ciel remarked. Is that how I looked all those times you had to carry me?

No. You were far more distinguished.

Why do I get the impression you’re only saying that to spare my pride?

Sebastian looked facetiously wounded. You know I am incapable of telling a lie.

Ciel scoffed. I’ll believe it when I see it.

Just popping that in there to tell you once again how much I love writing banter for these two. It feels so correct, it practically writes itself, really.

I couldn’t decide whose POV this conversation should happen from, so I switched throughout. I try to be careful when I employ this technique- it can quickly make things a little soupy, for lack of a better term. But I wanted this exchange to have observations from both Alois and Claude. Alois is trying to be brave while internally pissing his pants, and Claude is falling into a quick and disgusting obsession with Ciel, which is also taken directly from season two of the anime.

I couldn’t resist having Ciel comment on Claude’s name. A Faustian demon having the last name Faustus is the most basic-bitch bullshit, and I would expect nothing less from Alois Trancy.

I loved writing Alois and Ciel’s exchange. They’re both such spitfires, stubborn and bitchy and uncooperative. The funniest part of the conversation to me is the fact that Sebastian and Claude are standing no more than six feet away, glaring daggers at each other and ready to throw down at a moment’s notice. I just imagine those wavy red lines radiating off of them like you see in an anime when a character is frustrated or angry.

If it wasn’t clear already, Claude is straight up lying when he says that Sebastian murdered Alois’s brother. This brings up another topic I wanted to discuss, which is the thing demons are always saying about how they don’t lie. I always just assumed that statement itself is a lie, and that’s the joke, right- lying when you say you don’t lie? Obviously if a demon’s master gives them an order to answer a question honestly, they would have to, but outside of orders, I think demons can just bullshit all they want. Especially demons like Claude, who are already disloyal to their masters and stretching the limits of their contract’s rules to the absolute limit In order to complete their own goals.

Claude telling Alois that Sebastian killed his brother is also straight out of the anime- he lies to Alois there too, so I don’t feel weird about doing it in this fic. Demons are creatures of treachery, after all, and will ultimately do what’s good for themselves in the end. The only question is, why would Claude lay they blame on Sebastian? What could he stand to gain? Questions, questions, questions…

As I said before, for a lot of this summoning ritual, I’m writing off the top of my head. The thing about salt is true, though- salt is a purifier/preservative, so it’s often considered to be symbolically protective. Pouring salt lines in doorways and windowsills will supposedly protect a household, as no evil can pass through the barrier. That’s a thing in Supernatural, but Supernatural didn’t make it up, is what I’m saying.

The way I imagine this ritual works is like: Lizzy focuses on Sebastian. Sybil reaches into her brain with her witchy powers, connects to the spirit network and just pulls really hard on the threads of the universe until Sebastian appears. That’s all pretty vague but I don’t really think the specific mechanics of the ritual matter all that much. It’s magic, don’t worry about it.

The rest of this chapter was one of the first things I wrote for this fic. Not the very first- The scene in chapter one with Lizzy at Ciel’s grave was first written in 2019 (!!), but the first draft of this chunk of chapter seven is hand-written (I handwrite a lot of my fic) and dated as May 2022. I hadn’t yet figured out what the circumstances were for Ciel and Sebastian even being in London, or why they’d been talking to Claude, but I knew I wanted them to be making out when Sebastian got yoinked. It’s just very funny to me. Someone commented that it’s good Sybil and Lizzy didn’t wait much longer to start the ritual, or Sebastian would have been buck-ass naked when he showed up, and that gave me a good laugh. I hadn’t thought of that.

I love Ciel making Sebastian jealous on purpose. They both like annoying each other, it’s an Olympic sport for them, but we all know that Ciel secretly (or not so secretly) loves how possessive Sebastian is. He loves being needed and wanted and owned and *screams* I love writing it. Makes my brain go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

It was important to me that Sebastian show up in Sybil’s attic looking like an angry wet cat, only not wet. Frazzled maybe. He just got dissolved and pulled through space and then reassembled in a strange environment. You’d be frazzled too. I feel like I succeeded with my sketch.

Now that Ciel is a demon, it’s fun to have Sebastian be the one in danger because there’s actually more Ciel can do to save him- though his inability to really fight or anything is going to be a problem that needs rectifying (we’ll get there). He is, however, perfectly capable of smashing through a window and scaring the shit out of Lizzy and Sybil.

I knew from the very beginning that I HAD to have the moment Lizzy finding out Ciel is still alive be a cliffhanger at the end of a chapter. Nothing else would have done it justice. She was gagged. Gooped. Face? Cracked. Wig? Snatched.

CHAPTER EIGHT – A SOUL NO LONGER LIVING

Another Simeon flashback! I love writing these. I’m very fond of Simeon, much more than I thought I would be, considering he was basically only created to be a vehicle for exposition and plot continuance. We also get more insight into Ada, who I also love. I’m actually chipping away at a spin-off one-shot about their first few days together after making their contract it’s literally just porn but that’s beside the point. It’s quite a different dynamic than any other demon/master relationships that are seen in canon- but if there are many demons running around in the world, it would stand to reason that their contracts and relationships would be as diverse as they are.

In truth, I have ideas/intentions for a few spin-off one-shots of varying lengths for this universe. Don’t worry, I’m going to focus on finishing the main story first! But I’ve never been this excited to expand on a fic before. It’s a neat feeling, and I hope my readers will follow me along on the journey, even though I’m really just happy to write these ideas down for myself!

Ciel bursting into the room, dropping a “surprise, bitch” on Lizzy and then immediately ignoring her in favour of Sebastian is just very Him. I wanted this whole scene to be from Lizzy’s POV because again, I love that outsider shit, and she’s the one with the most new and overwhelming thoughts at this moment. As if it wasn’t enough that Ciel is alive, she suddenly sees him and Sebastian kissing- it’s a wonder her head didn’t explode! But that reveal was less surprising to her. Ciel and Sebastian were always… weirdly close, so she can’t claim to be too shocked.

He approached her, and she flinched. She never would have before- she would never have thought to be afraid of him- he would never have struck her. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. There was some power, some darkness radiating from him that made the basest part of her shy away.

When I wrote this, I had fully forgotten the scene early in the anime when Ciel does totally reel back to slap Lizzy and Sebastian has to stop him. It’s a small thing, but I was kicking myself about it when I realised my mistake- nobody’s perfect, I guess.

“The eyepatch you wore,” Lizzy said, and then felt quite stupid. “It wasn’t from an injury, then.” Tears began to burn in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “That was a lie as well.”

Here, at this moment, we get Lizzy’s emotional hang-up for the rest of the arc- the fact that Ciel lied to her. For the record, I didn’t even expect her to care this much. She just would not let it go, even when I tried to write her letting it go. Sometimes characters and stories develop a mind of their own, and you have to follow their lead until it comes to its natural conclusion.

I know a lot of readers were annoyed by Lizzy’s unwillingness to just get with the program already and believe me- I was also annoyed! But I also felt that it was more accurate to her character, and I wasn’t going to sacrifice that for the sake of making readers a little less annoyed. Sometimes characters are gonna do stuff you don’t agree with. That can be interesting. And sometimes, the consequences of their stupidity or stubbornness can be all the more satisfying as a result!

Thankfully, before things could devolve into even more arguing, Simeon shows up and the boys quickly bounce. Sybil telling Simeon that it was a bird that broke the window is another pseudo-reference to the fact that Ciel, to me, is a phoenix. He’s the big bird lol.

Alois is of course enchanted by the idea of immortality- if anyone would be looking for a way to weasel out of having to give up their soul, it would be him. Claude, of course, has no intention of ever doing something like that. He’s anti-love and anti-fun in general, to be honest. What a buzzkill.

I’m not going to go too into detail about Hannah’s revelation about this weapon, as there are things about it that have yet to be revealed in the fic itself. I’ll leave that for later commentary blogs. Rest assured, this weapon is bad news.

In a comment on this chapter, someone pointed out that at the moment Alois and Claude are discussing mating bonds and such, Ciel and Sebastian are back at their hotel having emotional, life-affirming floor sex. The juxtaposition of those two images made me laugh. If this was a show, you could have a hard cut between Claude being like “Romance is dumb” BOOM Ciel and Sebastian fucking. It’s hilarious to me.

Anyway, this scene was so self-indulgent to me. Sometimes you just gotta write stupid mushy shit, okay? They’re so in love with each other *cries*

“How can you say such things?” he looked at Ciel mournfully. “How can it be that I’ve failed you so, that you believe these lies about yourself?” He reached up and pushed matted, wet strands of hair away from Ciel’s eyes. “You have proven time and time again to be my saviour and my solace. You are and always will be the very reason for my existence- the purpose for which I live and breathe- whether you are of any use to me or not.”

What’s that meme that’s like “Do you like soul mate AUs or do you just struggle with your self-worth and are obsessed with the idea that someone could love you no matter what”? It’s me. I have exposed myself.

I think Ciel likes pain, like, in a sex way- at some point, all the shit he went through must have crossed wires in his brain- but in this scene, it was more about his need to feel something, anything, to remind him that he and Sebastian were both alive, and real, and safe and together. And it affected him so deeply that his blue flames came back, even for a second!

I didn’t intend for Ciel’s powers to be a part of the story, but I realised early on that Ciel needed some kind of internal conflict to give him a character arc as well as the external conflict of solving murders etc. I’m excited to get into it properly in the final arc of the story.

Sebastian, a demon, reciting scripture will never not be amusing to me.

“And they shall take of the blood and strike it upon the two side posts and on the upper doorposts of the houses… for I will pass through the land of Egypt in the night, and I will smite all the firstborn, both man and beast.”

The passage he is quoting is from the Old Testament book of Exodus, paraphrasing verses from the twelfth chapter. It’s the command God gave to Moses for the Hebrew people, which led to what became the first Passover. The Hebrew people were in slavery in Egypt, and God sent the ten plagues of Egypt, and the final plague was that God passed over the land of Egypt, and every firstborn human and animal died, all in one night. This is what made Pharoah finally break down and let the Hebrews go.

The Hebrew people themselves were protected from the plague because they sacrificed a lamb and used its blood to mark their doors so God would know they were his people and not harm them when he passed over. Thus, the term “Passover”.

Sebastian, using his blood to mark the walls and keep them safe, found it a cheeky, fitting reference. And yet again, he STOLE something.

Cambion is indeed a term for a being who is half-demon, half-human. The term originates in European mythology and was originally used interchangeably with the word ‘changeling’, a mythological creature that replaced a human child, but later came to mean a demon-human hybrid. The most popular use of the term is the creature from Dungeons & Dragons, a humanoid creature with bat-like wings and horns and a devil’s tail.

Obviously, Sybil doesn’t have any of those physical attributes, but her demon heritage is what makes her capable of seeing the dead, as well as her intuitiveness and her ability to successfully perform rituals like the one that summoned Sebastian despite the fact that she’d never attempted anything like it before in her life. Witches in general are just humans with an affinity for the spiritual, but Sybil has heightened abilities that can only be attributed to her non-human genetics.

I ended this chapter on another sort-of cliffhanger- I hate writing normal endings to scenes, it always feels awkward, so I always end up doing this haha. I hope it doesn’t get too annoying or boring. Like right now, for instance, me not knowing how to end this blog post.

Okay, bye, see you all next time!

#ttnbd #fanfiction #commentary #black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebaciel #about writing #lord speaks

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tarohemianrocketmanapsody · 2 years

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Homeward Bound // Somewhere Only We Know - Chapter 2

Prologue.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

It had been a long fucking night and she really was at her breaking point. They had been doing a choreographed dance all night and she sometimes had to look down and make sure that her clothes were still on and that they hadn’t spontaneously combusted from the heat of his stares. She’d needed intervention.

Aggressively staring at Jake until he got the hint and came over to her at the bar, she all but yanked him down into a seat that partially obscured her view of Rooster. While her inner slut mourned the unobstructed view of him bending over the pool table to take a shot (looking like he was bending something else entirely over with the way he moved his body and the heat in his eyes), she was grateful to have a moment of mental peace that she hadn’t been able to have since he had walked through the door.

Raising his eyebrow, Jake just took the beer she offered to him as a peace offering and stared at her.

“What,” she said, avoiding his eye contact and clearing more glasses left over by their rush hour, wiping up the sticky mess that was always, ALWAYS left behind because people suddenly forget how to drink out of a cup properly.

“Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, doing your job rather than participating in this antiquated mating ritual?”

The laugh that came out of her was unexpected, and she whipped around to throw her dirty bar towel at his face. He caught it easily, a smirk on his beautiful face as he essentially wrapped his mouth around the beer bottle and drank it. She even saw his tongue peek out to lick up a drop that had run astray. She rolled her eyes. Like he wasn’t trying to seduce any and everyone in this bar too, he loved the attention. At least hers was just one man with a pornstache and a Hawaiian shirt, rather than the entire clientele of the bar. As far as she was concerned, she won.

“Oh please you act like this job is rocket science, we don’t all have to fly thousands of pounds of machinery under threat of death by explosion to make money. Half of this job is interacting with the clientele. Now it’s just you military brats left so it’s not like there is much for me to do,” she said. The “but stare”, was silent, but she knew Jake got that without her saying it. Jackass.

“Oh in that case,” Jake responded, swinging his legs around and making to leave her defenseless, “I’ll leave you to interact with your clientele.”

She had never moved so fast in her life, reaching out to grab his arm and turn him back to her. She once again felt heavy eyes on her. She knew His pilot eyes were meticulous, wouldn’t miss a single touch or smile, and part of it brought a thrill to her. She had remembered the fun she used to have flirting with the boys at school, loved to rev him up and see how he took it out on them, and then later, her, in a very painful (pleasurable), meticulous, way. Her traitorous body literally clenched at the memory. It was like she was an animal in heat.

“Fine you win,” she grumbled, going to get refills on drinks for a few patrons before coming back again to glumly rest her head on her hands in front of Jake. It wasn’t fun to deprive yourself of what you really wanted, regardless of how afraid she was of him, how scared she was at the power he wielded over her and the control he had over her heart. “I need you to run interference.”

Jake snorted, but turned solidly in his seat and leveled his eyes with her and she knew her trusted best friend was in for the count with her tonight.

“Please, you want me here so you can just play hard to get.”

“Excuse you, I AM hard to get.”

“Uh huh, a young girl at UCLA begs to differ.”

“As I recall you were the one coming onto ME.”

“Oh and you put up such a fight, we only had sex with each other every night for like 8 months.”

“Yeah, until we realized we were both in love with someone else.”

“Details details, jury still stands that you, my friend, are being pathetic.”

“Oh I’m being pathetic? You’re literally trying to seduce all of my customers, and don’t even try to deny it because nobody just happens to drink their beer like that. No matter how much you might believe it to be true, you are NOT God and there are limits to your talents.”

“Maybe, but at least I can admit to my game, are you gonna own up to yours? Or are we going to pretend like you haven’t been eye fucking him since he walked in?”

She dropped her head between her arms and groaned. He was always right. Sometimes it was easier when he was away and he couldn’t read her like a damn book.

“I missed you,” she said instead, looking up at him and squeezing his hand. He rolled his eyes, but squeezed back nonetheless, the fondness in his eyes betraying the annoyance he was trying to feign.

“I know,” he replied. She didn’t take it personally, knew he showed his love in different ways, through actions and not words. He showed his love by always driving her to work and staying to take her home when he was in town. By laying in bed with her in silence while she couldn’t sleep, kept up by too many past regrets that she couldn’t put words to. And, by sitting here and entertaining her, quite frankly, psychosis as she battled feelings she hadn’t felt in 6 years while the object of her affection, and also her biggest fear, stood a mere 20 feet away.

“I’ve missed him too.”

“Yeah I think everyone in the bar can see that.”

“Do you wanna bust my balls or do you want to sit here and drink for free and let me get on my soap box?”

“…continue.”

“I don’t know, seeing him tonight just makes me realize how much I have cut myself off from feeling things. It’s scary.”

“Do you want me to ask you why or are you just talking to yourself?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying I’ve spent the past 6 years listening to you whine and quite literally yearn after this man that I honestly don’t think is worth your time. But you want him and you swear that he is some dramatic long lost love with like the dick of God and the patience of Ghandi, and there he is and he’s looking at you like you’re a piece of meat, so go get him.”

“It’s not just about the sex.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about the moment after dude, having someone who knows you inside and out hold you, knowing that you’re safe in their arms and that nothing can ever truly hurt you when you have them in your life.”

“Okay, now I’m feeling slightly sick. Is there a point to this? Because if this goes on much longer for a choker like Bradshaw, I’m going to need another drink.”

“Yes, the point is, he was that person. He knew everything about me, bad and good and everything in between. What if he doesn’t know me anymore? Worse, what if he does? He’s going to leave again, you all do, and I don’t know if I can go through that again. I don’t even know if I want to face him again. I spent so long desperate to get out of here and be different than my mom and my family. I didn’t for a moment stop to think that the things that actually made me happiest were here. I let it ruin us. I don’t know if he can forgive me for that, and I don’t know if I want him to. I’m not going to be my mom, falling for a man who’s always got his back to me, flying away.”

“Now you’re just making up excuses. Blah blah blah, we get it you have abandonment issues, but don’t pretend like you can’t do this, considering we have been friends for the past 6 years. You’re just scared to get your feelings hurt again, which is just honestly embarrassing for you because you can probably lead Bradshaw around by the balls and he would thank you based on the way he looks at you. Stop being a pussy and let yourself see what happens for once before we skip to the bad part.”

She poured two shots, clinking her glass with his as she tried to let his words sink in and drown out the shockingly high voices of her anxieties.

“You definitely don’t sugarcoat things.”

“You wouldn’t have practically begged me to come over here if you wanted me to placate you, you just want me to validate you so you can fuck him without feeling guilty.”

“I can’t just fuck him the first night he is back in 6 years, what do you take me for?”

“You forget that I’ve seen you in literally every possible physical position, and that I stay with you when I’m in town. I can hear what you watch through the walls.”

“That’s a good point. Just… don’t let me go home with him tonight. You might have some truth to what you’re saying, but things aren’t always black and white and I’m not quite ready to just let him back in. Things were said that can’t be taken back, and I can’t just forget 6 years of silence.”

“Whatever you want babe, all I’m saying is that you can’t hold him or yourself responsible for what happened when you were 18. Do you honestly think he would’ve been happy if he just blew off his dreams to follow you? Do you think you would’ve forgiven yourself if he did? You’re allowed to be irrational because that’s what teenagers do, but if you take 2 seconds to get your head out of your ass and stop being sad that he left, you might realize that it’s the best thing that ever happened for both of you. Timing is weird and you can’t control it, better that it happened then rather than you guys growing to resent each other.”

“Huh, your head is always so far up your own ass I forget how smart you are sometimes. Too bad in a month you’re both leaving and I’ll probably be left with some love child due to the indecent acts you’re trying to force on me.”

Jake actually snorted at that. You loved seeing your best friend laugh, didn’t see it often enough because just like you he carried his own losses from his past. Unlike you, however, he didn’t have a chance to reunite with his person, having lost her when he was just 20 and starting out on his military career.

“Whatever, all I’m saying is, you’ve been given this chance to see him again after all of this time. And, if he has any sense at all in that hairy little head of his, he would never willingly leave you. People make decisions all of the time about what is important to them, and if I could do it all again I would give up flying in a heartbeat if it meant seeing her again, and having the chance to create the life we had always talked about.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t talk about her a lot, nor did she know him before he lost her, but she assumed that this girl had inherently changed him when she passed. She understood what he was trying to say though, and was shocked at how deep his devotion still ran for her after all of these years (though, she didn’t know why she was, because she was in the same boat). Jake had detailed to her countless times how his skills as a pilot were given to him by god himself, and how he had always been born to fly. To hear that he would give it all up for her, even after all this time? It was incredibly humbling, and insanely romantic, even if he would hate to hear that.

She squeezed his hand again, knew he wouldn’t want her to say anymore on the topic. It was always a conversation he preferred when there was a lot more alcohol, and an intensely lower level of consciousness.

“You’re right,” she admitted, continuing on before he could make a comment about how rarely she would make that admission, “But I could never ask him to give up flying. I did it once before, and I was wrong, even if my reasons weren’t selfish. You can’t ask someone to walk away from something they love, something that makes them who they are.”

“No,” he conceded, “But they can choose between something that they love, and something that they can’t live without.”

“Does it always have to be a choice?”

“No, in a perfect world you could do both and have it all, but how often do we get to dictate what we have? All I’m saying is, if and when the time comes, and he isn’t the complete idiot that I think he is, he will make the right decision. No man would willingly walk away from you.”

“You’re just saying that because of all the under the bar alcohol you get.”

“Now you’re the one making a good point. Speaking of good points, you owe me another beer. All of this talk actually helping Bradshaw is leaving a bad taste in my mouth. He needs to focus on his flying, that’s where he really needs some guidance.”

She smiled as she got him another beer.

“You’re just mad because he gave you a run for your money for first in class.”

“I would hardly call it “a run”, I had to throw everyone in class a bone every now and again so their spirits would stay up. I can’t fly every mission for the military, someone had to be second.”

“Shut up and drink your beer.”

“You just want me to stop talking so you can go back to undressing him with your eyes with no interruptions.”

She smiled, making eye contact with Rooster again. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of her since she had started her conversation with Jake. She was pleased to see his jaw set while he clenched the pool cue between his hand, his thumb with his father’s ring tapping rather aggressively on the pool table where he was leaning and not even trying to hide his stare. It seemed inevitable, at least in her mind, that they would find their way back to each other eventually, and if she was being honest it had always seemed that way. But it didn’t have to be right now, and it didn’t have to be easy. There were obstacles to overcome, and they had to get to know each other agains as adults, rather than two kids who fell in love. She also had to convince herself to not run in the opposite direction and never look back for a fear that she might never live a full life again if she gave him her heart, only for him to permanently leave again. So yeah, she was immensely going to enjoy a jealous… Bradley. She was excited to see if he lived up to her memory.

“You’re not hearing any arguments from me.”

———————————————————————

It was finally closing time at the end of what was likely the longest shift of her entire life. Jake had been a good sport, sticking to her side at the bar and keeping her occupied while slowly but surely everyone had petered out of the bar, many going home together as the Hard Deck once again worked it’s unspeakable magic and brought people together. All that remained was her and Jake at the bar and a handful of the same pilots from earlier, all scattered around Bradley like he was some boy king (boy being the furthest thing from describing this absolute man who was sitting there and looking like he could eat her up). She looked back at Jake and was grateful that he spent the night catering to her and her neuroses rather than spending it studying his fellow pilots, finding ways to subtlety one-up them and establish his dominance (a favorite past time of his). While she was thankful for his continued dedication, she currently needed him get the fuck out. The aviators had come off of Bradley and he was not being shy with his looks and suddenly her entire carefully constructed willpower, and her former reservations from literally 2 hours ago, went right out the fucking window. With him spread out on a chair, legs spread wide, Hawaiian falling just right, glasses hooked on his tank top dragging it down to show more tanned skin from his chest, who could blame her. She just wanted to… talk.

“I need you to take a walk,” she said, turning to Jake.

He just stared back at her.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“I need you to take a walk.”

“At 1:00 in the morning?”

“Yes.”

He looked around the bar until he laid eyes on Bradley and turned back to her incredulous.

“You told me you wanted me to play interference.”

“Yes, and now I’m telling you to take. A. Walk.” She exaggerated her statement with intentionally dramatic blinks so he would get the fucking hint and clear the bar.

“What happened to holding out and easing back into things?”

“We’ve already run 23 miles of foreplay tonight, might as well bring it home.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I have no fucking clue at this point, but it feels right. Now get out, I just want to talk to him.”

“Talk. Right. Is that what the kid’s are calling it now today?”

“Honestly your lack of faith in me is devastating, maybe I really do just want to talk. I would like to see him without the eyes of 50 other people looking in waiting to see what we do like we’re in a goddamn zoo.”

“Funny, as far as I can recall, you like to be the one doing the watching.”

“I’m literally kicking you out now.”

“I’m your ride home.”

“Then maybe you suddenly want to go check on your bike, I know it’s old and might need to be looked over before we drive it home, maybe will give you some time to sober up too, this is your 4th beer tonight.”

He just looked at her. She knew damn well that Jake could probably body two more drinks easily before he was at any point of intoxication that would prevent him from driving.

“I’m not finished with my drink.”

She reached forward and grabbed the beer out of his hand, not even looking behind her as she chucked it in the trash.

“And now you’re done. Do me a favor and take out the trash when you go outside, and maybe use that subtlety of yours you love to talk about to get the other pilots to go as well, it being such a long night and all. I’m really ready to close this place down.”

He got up from the bar, putting a finger in her face as he stepped away, “You have 20 minutes and I’m dragging your ass home, preferably clothed but I’m not above dragging your ass out of here naked. Some of us need sleep, we can’t all sleep until 11 and roll up to work at 4pm.”

She smiled and waved as he walked away, calling out, “You’ve lost a lot more sleep over a lot less noble pursuits.”

His middle finger in the air was the only response she got, coming around the bar to grab the trash before making his way over to the pilots.

She turned and busied herself with refilling the ice behind the bar and making sure the glasses and napkins were all back in order for her mom’s opening tomorrow. She was nervous now, listening out for the tell tale sound of the door opening and closing. She had been truthful about just wanting to talk, whether Jake believed it or not was a whole other story (and for good reason, as he knew her better than she knew herself, and knew she was likely being dishonest with herself).

The tension that fell over the bar tonight was thick, and not just from the unresolved sexual chemistry they still very clearly shared (though that did not make the situation easier). Years of things left unsaid was sitting between them, and she wanted to have the upper hand in this interaction, wanted to be able to be the one to have this conversation on her terms. He had always known how to, for lack of a better word, dazzle her and have her all but begging to submit when it came to sex, but she had always been the one with the upper hand outside of the bedroom. While he loved to dominate her for their more… carnal interactions, he had quite simply been nothing but worshipful the rest of the time, letting her have the lead. This was likely because he was able to be a lot more open with his affection and feelings than she always had been, products of their home environments (hers sporting an emotionally distant and unavailable dad and having a mom who cut herself off from emotions in order to handle her own issues with men, while Bradley’s house had always been full of emotion and verbal affirmation, likely because Carole knew that nothing was ever guaranteed and didn’t ever want her son to question her love for him). She had always felt more comfortable showing how she felt with physical touch and actions rather than words, something that had never seemed to bother him before, but something she felt guilty about regardless. She had often been kept up at night over the years thinking if she had been able to be more vocal about how deeply she felt about him, and her fears of losing him, things might have turned out different.

She didn’t want to lord any power over him, didn’t want to take advantage of their situation or the many unresolved feelings they likely had for each other. That had never been what their power games were about. While they had liked to dabble into seeing just how many ways they could get each other to bend, to see just how much they affected each other, it had always come from a place of respect and safety and love, two equals pushing boundaries and trying to understand this explosive chemistry that wrapped around them. However, in this specific situation, she just wanted to be on her A-game. While she might not be as much of an open book verbally, her body language and face had always been able to express how she was feeling, and he had meticulously studied her over the years, determined to be an expert in all things her. Bradley often knew what she was feeling before she did. She wanted to have this conversation without folding to the magnetism they had over each other, wanted to see if they could actually meet as adults and possibly see if they could overcome what seemed to be a mountain of unanswered questions and tensions. However, she also was human and, unfortunately, was typically driven by her desires versus her mind, and the object of essentially all of her desires over the past half decade was suddenly a mere few feet away from her. Maybe she could forget how to act for a night.

“No,” she said to herself, so distracted by her own inner angst and monologue she missed the sound of people exiting the bar, “I must stay strong, for women everywhere.” It seemed flimsy, even to her own ears.

She moved down the bar, turning over barstools and stacking them on the counter. Hands reached out from behind her, grabbing the barstool and flipping it over with much more grace and ease than she was sure she had demonstrated.

Her back felt hot and suddenly all of her senses were in overload, his presence behind her being like a shot of adrenaline directly to her heart. She felt warm lips press to her ear, felt a hand slip around her waist and splay out on her stomach. The size of the hand compared to her small waist made her mouth dry out, her tongue rolling into the back of her head as she took in how his hand seemed to cover her entire stomach, as if laying claim to it and marking it as taken territory. She allowed herself to be pulled back into a hard chest (a very welcome change, though part of her missed her lanky Bradley who was more soft and was all arms and legs). Felt his other arm come up to have his fingers dance along her collarbone, leaving a small trail of fire with every touch. His fingers strayed to her neck, and she felt the slightest press of his dad’s ring against her throat. It was cold, a direct antithesis to the heat that was no doubt radiating off her of her skin. It was also insanely erotic. She had allowed herself to become ensnared in a golden trap, and she couldn’t even find it within her to be mad about it.

“You know,” he murmured, letting his teeth graze her ear while the ring pressed down slightly harder on her neck, “That was probably the best performance I’ve seen you put on to date. I came to offer my personal congratulations.”

She took a deep breath and counted to three, ignoring the pressure of his fingers on her throat and the heat of his other hand burning a hole through her shirt on her stomach. Once upon a time she had dedicated years of studying to those fingers, knew what all they were capable of. The game was just beginning though, and she couldn’t let him see her sweat. Not yet anyways.

“Funny, I was just about to say the same thing,” she started, tilting her neck up to show off more skin, smiling as she let one of her hands dance up his leg, light touches all the way up until she hooked her thumb in the waistband of his jeans, letting it rest against his bare stomach, “All eyes were on you tonight fly guy.”

She felt him laugh behind her, felt the vibrations from his chest on her back. She felt his fingers on her throat moving again, felt them flutter across her pulse point (which he could likely feel being rapid and explosive at the moment), before settling on her jaw, firmly gripping it and turning her head to the piano. His thumb, the same one with that damned ring, ghosted across her lips. His other arm still had her firmly anchored to his chest.

“Only one pair of eyes I was looking for sweetheart, I remember how much of a fan you are of a show, even left a spot open for you on the bench just like old times. But,” he said, his voice taking on a darker edge here, “You seemed to be… distracted.”

She thought back to his performance, back to that brunette who stood way too close, thought of the familiarity that ran between them. She recalled the heated looks he threw to other women of the bar. He had been playing the same game she had, but she had always excelled far more in this area. While he loved to make her jealous like she so loved to make him, he just liked having her eyes on him (and only him) better, and enjoyed nothing more than being able to have his eyes on her.

She nipped at the finger stroking her lip, and reveled in the way his fingers on her jaw tightened in warning, loved the way his fingers pushed harder into her stomach, toeing the line of more painful than heated. She loved it, hoped, secretly to herself in her mind where she didn’t have to face any repercussions of her actions in her little fantasy world, that he would leave bruises on her. That she would get to wake up tomorrow morning and relive what it was like to be in his arms, feeling his touch again, knowing that it was real, finally.

Snaking her hand up his arm and over the back of his neck, she allowed herself to sink her fingers in his hair and drag his head down to her level, keeping her eyes on the piano, and more importantly, the piano bench, while she spoke.

“I would’ve been more entertained if there was something worth watching.” She let her tongue dart out, licking the shell of his ear, while her other thumb still tucked into his waistband started to stroke his skin.

Moves and counter moves.

His hand on her stomach moved faster than she anticipated, hooking his finger through her short’s belt loop, whipping her around and pushing her into the bar, his thigh going between her legs, with one solid, fluid moment. His hand that had previously been on her jaw was now resting flat on her chest, a chest that was now heaving up and down at being face to face with such proximity after all this time. She sent up a silent thanks to the gods that be for pilots and their ability to maneuver things (people) on a whim. His other hand had her caged in, wrapped around her waist as he pushed her even more, not so gently, into the bar.

“Mhm. How do you know him?”

She was suddenly scared to look him in the eyes, scared to see the fire that she knew to be in them, a similar fire that she was sure would be reflected right back from her own eyes. She focused, instead, on tracing the ridges of his chest through his essentially non-existent tank top.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

The warm hand that was resting on her chest started to move, sliding down her chest until he was full on palming (gripping) her boob. He moved his fingers and pinched her nipple, hard.

Her head shot up, her mouth opening, and she was embarrassed to admit she didn’t know if it was in outrage or arousal.

“Now I have your attention,” he murmured, his eyes scanning over her face. His fingers reached back out to soothe the sting on her chest, trailing a lazy circle around her nipple. Goosebumps erupted over her entire body. His face seemed humored, almost laughing at her obvious reaction to him, but his eyes held a heat she knew from many similar encounters in the past. He was seeking an answer from her, this one about Jake, and he knew how to dig until he got what he wanted.

“Let’s try this again,” he said, his warm breath falling over her face as he leaned in to whisper in her ear, his hand at her waist gripping to the point where she knew he would leave bruises. She smiled. “How do you know him? It’s nice to see that your acting hasn’t improved in all of these years honey.”

She felt fire in her veins.

“Who do you want him to be to me? You seem awfully eager to make assumptions.”

His thigh pushed harder between her legs, and she felt humiliation run through her body when the word “throbbing” came to mind. She was no better than the women in the trashy romance novels her mom swore she didn’t read.

“That’s because you want me to make assumptions.”

That was a fair point. While it was her favorite game to play with him, she had forgotten how well of a contender he was.

She leveled her eyes with him and smiled when he looked down at her, his eyes following the line of her tongue as she slowly licked her bottom lip. His hand, sadly, abandoned its menstruations on her chest, his thumb coming up to slowly trace the route her tongue had taken. Eyes locked. In a different scenario, at a different time, she might have sucked his finger into her mouth, maybe even dropped to her knees, if for nothing else just to see his hungry, desperate eyes follow her every move. But she had genuinely wanted to talk, and she was kind of letting herself get off track.

“He’s a friend, has been for awhile.”

“It seemed more than just a little friendly.”

“Aw, you remember how well I treat my friends Rooster, you used to be one of them once upon a time.”

His whole body tensed. He didn’t like that one. At. All. She couldn’t settle on a feeling, scared of how he might react, or actively anticipating what was coming.

His hand slid up from her waist, ghosting his hand over her chest while his other moved down to cradle the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and let her head drop back. His large hand framed her face, cupping it, while the other slipped into her hair and pulled, forcing her eyes open. He continued to pull until her back was practically arching over the bar, until their eyes met once again, a pair in orbit that always gravitated back towards each other.

“You’re playing a game and I’m willing to play along, I just don’t know if you’re going to be able to handle the consequences when they catch up to you.”

Their faces were mere inches from each other, and she resisted breaking their gaze to stare at his lips. His eyes held her in a trance, were reading her just like they always did when they were kids, and she suddenly wished she could freeze this moment in time, and always remember the way he was looking at her, like she was the sun and in charge of his gravitational orbit.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying, I just wanted to talk.”

He smiled at her then, genuinely smiled, and the sight of it made something warm blossom in her chest. It was like Catherine crossing the Moors and seeing Heathcliff again, like Darcy and Elizabeth crossing the field and coming home to each other, like the time traveler and his wife celebrating being in this moment, this current moment, together for just a minute.

“Talk?”he questioned, letting his thumb stroke her cheek.

“Talk,” she replied, leaning into his touch, trying to count the number of wood boards on the ceiling, anything to calm her down and get the absolute need between her legs under control, “Unless you’re going to find a reason to argue about that too.”

He moved his hand from behind her neck to her legs, picking her up with one arm (seemingly with ease? Dear lord) and laying her gently on the bar (a direct antithesis of his more forceful handling earlier, she couldn’t decide which one she loved more). His hand that was on her face was now being used to tenderly lay her head down and suddenly his entire body was between her thighs as she laid flat on her bar, him staring down at her. And the heat. Was. Back.

“Aw no baby,” he said, his hand once again coming down to dance along her throat, his index finger slowly drawing a line from chin to chest that had her seeing stars already, plotting a course of action or simply meaning to drive her crazy, she didn’t know, “I love to hear noises come out of your pretty little mouth, talk away.”

She put her hands on his shoulders, whether to drag him down or push him away she wasn’t sure, when he reached up with his right hand, the ringed finger, and grabbed her wrists.

Sirens went off in her brain as he lifted her arms over her head to pin them to the bar. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t- He pinned her wrists to the bar, flipping them over and interlocking her left hand with his right one.

Fuck.

He did it.

There was no coming back from this for her.

When they were younger no matter what position they were in or how heated things got, he always, always laced their fingers together. It grounded her, let her know that she was safe with him no matter what wicked shit he pulled on her body. Reminded her that she was loved and cherished. She felt his dad’s ring on her hands and had to suppress the tears that threatened to come to her eyes. It was all too much, all at once, he was everywhere and was flooding all of her senses.

“You wanted to talk sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear, taking his sweet time to nibble on her ear lobe before moving his lips behind her ear, sucking the spot behind it that literally had her back arching off of the bar and into his hard body.

“Yeah, I do. I think that there should be…”

He blew on the spot he had been sucking on, squeezing their interlocked hands before grazing his teeth down to her pulse point. She felt him place a sweet kiss to it before… Jesus h Christ placing his tongue on it, no doubt enjoying the rapid fluttering.

Her head fell back down to the bar with a thunk, exposing more of her neck to him (which honestly benefited her, once again thanking the powers that be that he remembered just how far he could get with her with a little bit of neck kissing and the biting… and the sucking… and the…). She went to speak again when he bit down on her pulse point. Hard. She wasn’t sure what sound emitted from her body, but she got a welcome hum against her throat and his legs came closer, widening hers even more, and she figured she must be getting rewarded for good Karma in another life.

“Boundaries. I think there should be solid boundaries between us while we get to know each other again…. See if we even still have anything… in common.”

He hummed, acknowledging her words, obviously taking them as encouragement completely ignore her in favor of continuing his onslaught of her neck. Before each stinging bite he placed a feather light kiss over his next victim spot. Her head was spinning between the juxtaposing sides he was showing. He was intentional with his path, she could tell. He was leaving his mark, that much was obvious, a brand that showed that he had been there. His feather kisses were even more branding than the bites and marks, penetrated her skin and touched her soul. He was forging a campaign to conquer every part of her body, ever the military man, trying to mix himself with every part of her he could, and leave his imprint not only on her skin, but underneath it too. Fuck.

“I’m being serious, I don’t even know how long you’re back for and we’re basically strangers right now and there are conversations that need to be had before we just…”

He had reached her chest.

Suddenly she had the strangest feeling that laying in her dim bar on her, lovingly, worn down counter, being kissed and marked and having her heart bared for everyone to see, felt strikingly similar to what it must be like standing in the grace of God himself.

His tongue dipped out, licking from where her cleavage began all the way up to her other ear. She didn’t even need to see his face to know he was smiling while he spoke low in her ear.

“I don’t know sweetheart, I could be wrong but I don’t think your body has forgotten me. Maybe a conversation about your masters in accounting can wait until I fully reacquaint myself though, and really address these boundaries of yours that you’re talking about.”

Another bolt of heat shot through her. He knew about her masters in accounting, which likely meant he knew about her BA in business before deciding to go on, wanting to learn everything she could about financials and banking before coming home and committing to a business. He had kept tabs on her too. The thought made her warm from head to toe on the inside.

“That’s a fair point Lieutenant.”

She felt his reaction immediately, took note of the way something most definitely jumped between her legs, and the way he stopped breathing for a moment in her ear. It was her turn to smile again. He had always loved having power over her in moments like these. To hear his rank uttered in such an intimate setting? It would likely drive him crazy (which she had partially wanted, she was obviously losing ground in her desire to have a conversation, the next best thing was to make him feel as out of control for her as she did for him). Plus… he was smart. He could read between the lines, would take her comment for more than face value. He was wearing his civilian clothes today. There was no way for her to know he was a lieutenant without having kept tabs on him too. It was an olive branch, albeit a small one, and a temporary ceasefire on her inner angst and turmoil over everything to do with him (and with them).

He attacked her chest with fervor. Gone were the light touches and slow passage, he was a man possessed as he, for lack of other words in her current foggy mind, ravaged her chest. He bit down and sucked so hard she swore he would draw blood. Her eyes seemed to be spinning in their sockets at this point and she shut them tightly, refusing to look down at him thoroughly debauching her for fear of how she would react. When he was done with one side of the top of her cleavage, he attacked the other with just as much gusto, and she started to squirm on the bar, her hips moving, looking for friction, while her hands were still clasped in his iron grip.

His other hand, forgotten in the midst of the overwhelming everything, shot up and gripped her waist tightly, his thumb pressing harshly into her skin as he stilled her hips and made her take the onslaught of his mouth and teeth. Holy fuck.

Then his lips were off of her and his hand above her head was releasing her and for a moment she could think, could actually formulate words in her brain, could produce reasons why not now, not here, not like this, but he didn’t give her much time to breathe. His hand came down from above to tweak her right nipple, pulling and pinching, while his mouth claimed her other nipple through her shirt (and wasn’t that insanely erotic wow, she suddenly was gleeful that she had forgone a bra tonight, the rough fabric of her tank top rubbing against her nipple, the wet friction creating overwhelming feelings of pleasure that, in combination with his other hand, went straight to her vagina).

His other hand ventured below the waste line of her shorts she suddenly despised, hated for the barrier they placed between them. Feeling of his fingers against the heated skin below her underwear had her suddenly wondering if it was possible to just get off on heated glances and bites and well placed fingers because wow she can’t recall ever feeling so turned on in her life.

“You’re trying to distract me and it’s not going to work, no matter how good with your mouth or how sinful your fingers are. We can’t just forget about the past 6 years Bradley.”

His head popped up at his name, and she swears she saw something soft in his eyes when he looked up at her from his position. He kept his hand where it was in her pants, but the other one came up to cradle the back of her neck again, his thumb stroking the skin he found that was most likely red and bruised.

“I think,” he spoke, his thumb pressing hard into her skin yet again in her pants, the pressure bringing her to attention while he all but forced her to look into his eyes, his other hand holding her head in place, making her look at the seriousness that danced behind his golden browns, “That we both know how this is going to end. That we both know that whatever games you want to play, and however far you’re going to run from me, you’re going to end up right back here by my side like you were always meant to be. I highly suggest we start enjoying that future now, rather than ruminating on things in the past that we can’t change. You can put up a fight if you want to darlin’, but at the end of the day we both know who you’re going to be coming home to.”

Fuck.

-----------------------------------------------

Tag List: (comment if you would like to be added)

@littlewhiterose

@thisisgracetrying

@blindedbyyourgrace17

@maverooster

@mjgrape2839

@discoseal

@n3ssm0nique

@lt-b-rooster-bradshaw

@winteryoungie

@professionalgeekgirly

@meeeeees-stuff

@fangirlinc

@icarussunlight

@levylovegood

@drewstarkeyishot

@nobody7102

@catmcx

@startterfly

@blackbrownie

@letusbewildflowers

A/N: Okay. Wow. This is my first ever public piece of writing and I wish someone had told me that characters, even ones made up by other people like Rooster, have a mind of their own. In my head they were already well into some ‘family friendly’ very kinky fun, and yet they had other plans and suddenly it was almost 8,000 words of further character / relationship development, Jake/reader best buddy time, and just the tip of the iceberg in regards to any smut (all for just this chapter no less). Who knew? Lol. I’m honestly not even halfway finished with this scene, but it's nearing 1am and I wanted to get something out (partially because I have this panic that everyone will move on from our Rooster obsession and I want to capitalize on the interest while it is there). I was trying to write some good old-fashioned smut and sexual tension and a lot of sappy worships and allusions to God / gods worked their way in there, whoops. I personally like my rough smut with a nice heaping side of worship and adoration, but maybe it’s just me haha. I promise after next chapter I will actually get them out of the bar and get the story truly rolling. I have spent the last few days obsessing over other people’s fanfictions and sitting and plotting on my own (sitting at the dinner table and thinking of pet names for him to call her during sex while your family is eating is not recommended). I can’t guarantee a regular updating schedule, because while I am riding this obsession train HARD, I have also come to realize just how fucking hard writing is, and don't even get me started on dialogue. And having to move them from place to place and describe every step and action so it is realistic? Kill me. I’m writing for my own personal fantasy and enjoyment tbh, but I hope you guys like it! The comments and kudos really inspire me to write, and just all around make me feel insanely good about myself and my writing, so thank you for that! I have messed around with the movie timeline just for my own creative reasons in the fic, so just know it’s my world and we’re all just living in it. Happy reading!

(Again, it is now nearing 1am as I finish this author's note, it’s going straight from my phone notes app to here with no editing because I couldn't wait to share it, my apologies because I write how I think, so one longgggg run on sentence with seemingly no understanding of commas or grammar).

We could call this scene a part 1 if we want, next chapter will pick up from here.

(BTW - this chapter’s pic is how I imagine him sitting, surrounded by his fellow pilots, watching ~her~)

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #top gun #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin

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fall-of-enselia · 4 months

Text

Hi, I’m Bleu, and welcome to my other blog! This one’s simply to keep track of all my FoE stuff, as well as allow suggestions from outsiders as to how I should continue the story. Here’s a basic description and some rules (Please read the full post, if you have the time)

General Summary

15 year old Emberlyn Sharp has just lived through the worst year of her life. Her parents just got a divorce, her sister went off to college on the other side of the country, her best friend moved away, she has to spend every day in English literature sitting shoulder to shoulder with her god awful excuse of an “ex girlfriend,” and worst of all, strange, almost paranormal events have been happening all around town. People are waking up to their mailboxes dissolved into acidic black sludge. Completely unidentifiable plants are showing up everywhere. But worst of all, a mysterious crystal she found in the woods when she was little starts making these god-awful screeching noises every time she opens its case.

Conveniently, suspiciously, around this time, a rumor starts spreading around the school that hidden within the restricted section of the library, there rests an old book containing a spell that will send anyone unfortunate enough to read its pages to hell. Now, under normal circumstances, Emberlyn would pass these rumors as a load of bullcrap, but with all the weird, paranormal events going on around her, her curiosity can’t help but be sparked. So, with a fully-packed suitcase, her mysterious screaming rock, and some help from the other school designated weird girl, she brakes into the school, and makes her trip to the library at 10:00 o’clock at night.

Little did she know, all those rumors would turn out to be true. Well, minus the portal to hell part.

Instead of hell, the floor gives way to a completely new world. One that is undeniably beautiful, but torn to shreds by war, disease, and natural disasters. She is thrust headfirst into a wasteland of warring nations, a plague that causes people to grow poisonous flowers out of their bodies, shadow demons falling from the sun, colonialism, and a crooked world history built upon lies. All tracing back to a god amongst gods who calls herself Enselia, hell-bent on tearing this world to shreds. But why, if Enselia is the high celestial, a creature whose duty is to be the all-seeing-eye and protector of this place, be trying to destroy it? Why does she hate this place so much? And is she even supposed to be the high celestial all along? Well, this angry little lesbian and five other cool people wanted dead by god are about to find out!

Oh yeah, and that screaming rock of hers? Turns out it’s a sentient dagger with enough energy to cause the highest of high celestials to spontaneously combust! How fun :D

Planning

So, my plans for this absolute mess of a series is to make it into a webcomic series, and a rather expansive one at that! Yes, I did say series. I intend to make Fall of Enselia into a multi-volume series with a planned 6-7 books (not including side material.) I doubt it’ll ever go into print, but it still feels more natural to me to structure each page and book like a physical comic book, so sadly, you’re not getting any infinite scrolls from me. If you’re wondering where you’ll be able to find it, I’ll be posting each chapter on Webtoon under the username Im_Tired1124. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to keep a consistent update schedule, but my current plan is to try and post one chapter every two months once I get the storyboards, script, and plot nailed down. As of writing this, I’m still working on the storyboard and script for the prologue of book one. Though I’ve had this story slowly forming in my head for about 2-4 years now, I kind of did the thing where you write down nothing about your story, while planning out every book, character beat, villain motivation, animated spin-off, and anime opening for your story lol. It’s definitely not going to be out for a while, but my current plan is to, hopefully, get the prologue and first three chapters published in the timeframe of July-December of 2024. In the meantime, I’ll be using this account to publish concept art, reference sheets, work in progress, and lore notes while working on the main event. It should also come with the expectation that I probably won’t be posting on my main account as much.(granted, I tend to be slow as hell with drawing, and posting things on there anyway) So, as much as it may pain me, I’m going to have to go on hiatus with my Omori fanart. And also probably my fanfiction, but hey, don’t tell anyone I said that!

Granted, I will let little bits of FoE content slip through on my main account, but most of them are probably gonna be more on the unofficial content/shitposty side (maybe even a spoiler here and there :)). This is where all the juicy story stuff goes!

Do’s and Do Not’s

Alright, here’s where all my rules for the series go!

You have my full permission to:

Make fanart

Form headcanons

Cosplay my characters

Make OC’s

Write fanfictions (so long as they are appropriate)

Order commissions of my characters (I don’t have a PayPal rn, so everything is free for now, yay!)

Draw them with other characters/your own OC’s

Take inspiration from my OC’s and comics

Give me advice on writing, send me sources on how to accurately represent different cultures, and tell me if I’ve accidentally done anything wrong or offensive. This story revolves heavily around different cultures and marginalized people trying to resist oppression and forced hegemony. However, I am fully aware that as a moderately culturally detatched half-Jamaican who hasn’t had to face too much racism or scrutiny for my appearance and cultural background, I can very easily screw things up. So, constructive criticism is always welcome ^•^

Ship my characters, I couldn’t give less of a shit! Just don’t turn anyone’s family tree into a family wreath, or get any of my OC’s arrested.

Genuinely, I have no problem with fan works, and I’d be absolutely overjoyed to see people engaging in my work in these ways! However I do still have standards within my ToS, so…

Things you may NOT do with my creative works (and just general stuff you shouldn’t do):

Trace or steal my art or OC’s

Use my characters in insensitive, harmful, bigoted, or political material.

“Reference” my works to the point you’ve just made the Wish.com knockoff of my OC’s.

Stalk, harass, or send death threats to people who disagree with you, or myself. Y’all should know better than that.

Spread misinformation about myself, my motives, the story, or other people I associate with just because you don’t like them. You have better things to do with your life, so stop making shit up and go outside. Don’t like, don’t engage.

For the love of Mangoes, under no circumstances is anyone allowed to make NSFW of my characters. Nope, not even the adults. Not only are most of the lead characters in FoE teenagers, but I also based there personalities and life experiences of of my own, as well as the experiences of friends and family of mine. Look, I hate to use the, “As a minor, this makes me uncomfortable,” card, but god damnit, as a minor this makes me real uncomfortable! Now, this ban may lift (AT LEAST ON ADULT CHARACTERS) once I get older, and am more comfortable with people interpreting my works that way, but right now, no. Don’t do it. Keep those ideas in the rough draft bin of your brain. That’s nasty. Don’t do it. Granted, I don’t have a problem with sexual humor in fan works, my sense of humor irl is already pretty… let’s just say, risqué, anyways, but as has already been established, don’t write or draw any of my characters getting it on.

Lastly, A few content warnings for the story to come.

Content warnings for Fall of Enselia will include

Violence

Horror

Gore

Disturbing imagery

Emetophobia

Racism

Potential unreality

Eating disorders

Mild religious themes

Bullying

Kidnapping

Child abuse

Unhealthy/Abusive relationships

Implied substances abuse

Murder

War

Death

Swearing

Generalized bigotry

Though all of these subjects are included if FoE, that doesn’t mean I condone them in any way. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. These things are included to show just how god-awful they are, and hopefully to encourage them to stop. Granted, most of the heavier themes in FoE aren’t anything worse than what you find in the average WoF book, but they’re still pretty heavy things, and I would advise all readers to see with caution if these subjects could trigger you.

Anyways, that’s all I have to say for now. Have a good day or night, take your vitamins, eat a good breakfast, stay hydrated, and make sure to wash your hands! 💙

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rolling-restart · 1 year

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Oh good Lord, big guy Toto and you never fail to amaze me (in different ways!)

My need to over-analyze with my accidental relatability with most of these characters. I could be wrong but fuck it, seeing a little of me in them is the kinda twisted that feels good.

Nico's promiscuity seems like both self-harming and Toto-harming. He seems convinced that he is fully playing mind games with the big guy, torturing him by sleeping with other people. But he's practicing unprotected sex which could result very very badly.

After therapy, I understood that impulsively having sex just for the sake of having sex, not because you feel real attraction for the sexual partner, can be considered self-harm. You get in a situation you'll possibly hate or not enjoy, but you have to do it. Like Nico having sex for the sake of fucking with Toto's mind, even if he actually feels attracted to Jenson.

You have a reason or "excuse" to hate your body, and hate yourself for experiences you don't like enjoy. I think Nico ends up sleeping with other people to justify why things go bad, even if he does it subconsciously. If you're bad, it makes sense that bad things happen to you. That's the way I saw things after periods of promiscuity, so it's just my experience.

On another note, I can't believe Toto used classical conditioning on Nico. THAT'S GENIUS. LIKE ACTUALLY EVIL GENIUS.

Also, Nico and Toto's relationship in this stage seems like a power struggle where both think the other has the upper hand no matter what mind games they play and therefore try to act like THEY are one step forward. We know Toto has the last word anyway, but seeing him trying to stay calm and rational while Nico is smugly being fucked by JENSON FUCKING BUTTON. God. I love to see it.

Any part of this sickening act could be explained by impulse but all of them together was definitely planned in the twisted little mind of Nico and Toto wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

Game reconigzes game. I don't think this is the exact moment when he realizes it, but there's a moment when he clicks that Nico is not that sweet manipulable thing Toto has painted in his own mind. He decides to keep a blind eye and act like Nico is innocent and deserving of punishment at the same time. Abusers' minds never make total sense, but Toto somehow is totally collected and a hot mess of contradictions; at the same time.

Also, I love the little detail of infantilizing Nico and diminishing him while putting him on a pedestal like…

Toto knew he couldn’t live without his little baby / touching and marking Toto’s precious little treasure / just the right amount to make his little darling beg for more / Every thrust was pushing his dainty little body further towards where Toto sat. / in the twisted little mind of Nico

Chef kiss. That detail is wonderful. From now on, Nico is baptized as little Nico. Little Nico and big guy Toto feel like the personification of entering a church and spontaneously combusting on fire. In my mind, it makes sense.

It was going to be fine. He didn't know what set off this behaviour in Nico but he was more than sure he could get this under control. He just needed to calm down and plan his next move.

Unfortunately, Toto is way too intelligent and quite a mastermind. He uses that intelligence doing disgusting things. It means his plans end up being well executed. He's the perfect villain.

-🌻

Hi there dear, 🌻. I’m so glad you liked it. Honestly, I am surprised why I didn’t yet receive an ask if I am actually evil and/or manipulative irl to be able to write those things.

I agree with you regarding the theme of promiscuity and I wanted to express the theme in the exact way you described. Nico isn’t overpowering Toto by sleeping around, he is just hurting himself and pushing himself in a worse state of mind. He tried to use his body as a vessel of punishment instead of protecting it. He just wants to break Toto’s toy out of frustration while also trying to transcend to a level where he actually doesn’t feel like he belongs in his own body,

It is obvious when Toto mentions that he gets blackout drunk and has sex. He doesn’t care about the experience, he probably doesn’t even remember it. He just tries to turn himself into something hate-worthy to upset Toto and harm his ego.

They are both playing mind games but Nico always has the lower hand because he also gets hurt while trying to hurt Toto. He ends up becoming the broken traumatised person we read in desecration.

There is a duality in the way that Toto perceives Nico. One moment he is the purest thing in the existence, the other he is the most contemptuous thing ever. It doesn’t make sense but Toto is also addicted to him so it doesn’t even matter.

I wanted the way Toto describes Nico to be uncomfortable, belittling while also worshipping. He doesn’t want to accept that he is a living breathing human being. He just wants to see him something that belongs to him on which he cannot establish the full control. It’s almost like the sexist ideal of animalising women to strip their subject from having their own mind and personality, regarding them as an exotic thing whose only function is to evoke desire in men.

I understand your description very well but it is also very hard to put it into words.

Regarding the last sentences, it was a deliberate parallel with “I need to calm down.” in chapter 11. To show that this is the way he operates. Running away from the mess when it gets too much to regroup and attack even more violently.

Thank you so much for your input! I read it again and again to see what you found out that I missed in my story! I appreciate it a lot!

#answered asks #🌻#tw #nr

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strangeinvader9 · 2 years

Text

Tis The Season

I knew today would be different. I just wasn't aware just how different yet. It started off with an odd feeling when I woke up. I could tell nothing was actively different; Law still cuddled me from behind, Fluffy and Ace could still be heard snoring from the other side of the room, the Strawhats could still be heard making a ruckus on deck and the glorious smell of Sanji's food was still hanging in the air. Yet something felt…...off. Shrugging it off, I tried to go about my day as normal. Key word is "tried". At breakfast, when Fluffy sat next to Law, who was across from me, I snarled at her. It was strange because I wasn't even mad at her. Everyone passed it off as my body adjusting to my devil fruit. Sabo and Ace had warned me of random power flare-ups as they had both frequently experienced spontaneous combustion while adjusting to the Mera-mera no mi. I began to suspect it was something else when I strolled past the dark surgeon on my way to the library and noticed he gave off a new scent. Normally, he smelled like coffee and old books, but now he smelled, for lack of a better description, male. In the library, I did some more research on reptiles and felt dread creep into my stomach as I recognized some of the behavior. "Oh. My. Good. Fucking. God," I whispered. "I have to get away from here for the next week! No, Law just started to recover from my two month absence. This would kill him. Maybe I can just avoid him until this is done? No, that would be too suspicious. Man; this was so much easier when I was a kitten. Wait a minute." Dread slowly morphed into horror as realization dawned on me. This had been easy to ignore as a kitten some it was simple curiosity. As a dragon, it was so much more complicated. One wrong step and I could ruin my life. After all, cats practiced one night stands. Dragons on the other hand, mated for life. Picking up the book, I zipped across the deck and into my room, locking the door behind me. "You look a little rattled, what's up?" I flinched at the sound of Ace's voice. No one was supposed to be here. "I, uh, am just doing some research," I answered. "On?" "Lizards." "Why?" "Closest relative to dragons. Thought it would help with my powers." "Need any help?" "Nope! Studying is the one thing I'm good at." "If you say so. By the way, Trafalgar was looking for you earlier." I tried not to panic at that statement. I was already freaking out over what I would have to do over the next few days, being around him now would just make it worse. "Did…. he say why?" I asked, walking over to my bed. "No. Probably just wanted to spend time with you. You yet haven't exactly didn't a lot of time together lately." I counted, having forgotten Law actually liked spending time with my weird self. Sweet Jesus, I was screwed. Over the next couple days, I decided to forgo the rituals and just ignore this stupid time of year as I had as a kitten. Fat lot of good that did me. I was wound tighter than a shooting ready to snap and I almost pounced him six times before making up some Lane excuse and running away. On the third day, he finally questioned me on it. I had just made another excuse to run away when he snatched my wrist. "Jewel-ya, what's gotten into you?" "Nothing, Captain, I'm fine." "Liar. You won't look at me anymore, you flinch whenever I try to touch you and you run away from me all the time. Have I done something wrong?" Dude. Ouch. I thought, hearing the pain in his voice. I hadn't noticed how much what I was doing was hurting him. "No. Law, it's not you. It's... it's me," I answered. "If you think it's something you've done wrong-" "No, it's not like that. It's not something I've done." I sighed heavily before turning to look at him for the first time in three days. "It's what I am." "What do you mean?" I shook my head, tugging at the wrist he still grasped. "Not here. Can we go somewhere more private?" I pleaded, looking away again. A quiet "room; shambles" was uttered and we ended up in the crows nest. I took a deep breath before explaining my situation. "Law, I'm not human, I never have been. I was born with the ability to become a kitten and now I'm a dragon. Well, with animalistic abilities comes basic animalistic traits and…" I trailed off, rubbing my arm and refusing to look at my Captain. "And….?" Law gently prodded after a moment of silence. I had never uttered more embarrassing words than I was about to in the next thirty seconds. Closing my eyes tightly, I wrapped my arms around myself defensively. "It's mating season and I've kinda chosen you as my mate," I explained. "Oh. How long has this effected you?" "Since I became of age. It was easy to ignore as a kitten because I didn't have any desires, nor someone I could mate with. Since becoming a dragon however, it's become a lot harder to ignore." "Why didn't you tell me?" I looked at Law incrediously. "Are you insane? You're my Captain that I have a crush on, nothing more." "I could've helped you with your urges." "No, you couldn't have. It's either mate with your partner, or don't mate at all. I've chosen you, but you must also choose me, otherwise that ain't happening. I won't allow it." Law stepped closer, took my chin in his hand and turned me so my brown eyes locked with his silver ones. "And who's to say I haven't chosen you as my mate?" he questioned. "What?" "I thought it was obvious, considering how much I enjoy your company and even go so far as to seek it out." "I… hadn't considered that." "Well, now that you know, will you allow me to assist you with your mating season issue?" "I'd love you to." "Good." He sealed the deal with a kiss filled with so much passion, I finally have in to my urges and jumped him. Afterwords, I was 100% satisfied.

#x reader #one piece

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ahloveisboo · 3 years

Text

game on (m)

pairing: gamer!jeon wonwoo x fem!reader (soonyoung makes an appearance)

genre: smut (18+), established relationship, cock warming but make it soft, comfort sex, unprotected sex, swearing, implied auditory voyeurism if that is A Thing but it doesn’t have to be if you’re not into that.

wc: 2.1k

summary: it’s been a shitty day and all you want to do is be close to wonwoo.

a/n: i literally finished writing this last night and this morning i stumbled onto THIS. which i had COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT and i want you to know that is exactly how i pictured him and i’m in l*ve with him and i would give him my left arm if he ever needed it

"I can't fucking do this anymore."

You puff the hair out of your eyes as your bag clatters to the floor, your jacket aggressively thrown onto a chair even though you and Wonwoo had agreed to not let clothes linger around the house.

The love of your life is lounging on the sofa—clad in a simple t-shirt and shorts, a headset on top of his unkempt hair, and a PlayStation controller in his hand. There are a few empty cans of soda littered around the furniture, and a scented candle burning on the coffee table to his right.

"Wonwoo," you whine, a dramatic pout etched on your lips. You're irritated, to say the least, and it weighs down on your limbs as you shuffle closer to the sofa. With each step though, your annoyance miraculously fades, and the final remnants of any unease melt away when your lover reaches a hand out to you, beckoning you closer.

"Oh hey, sweet cheeks," he greets you, his eyebrows shooting up in pleasant surprise. "I didn't expect you home so early."

You know you should've given him a heads-up. "I took the afternoon off," you explain as you come up to straddle his lap, cupping both cheeks with your palms before planting a firm kiss on his lips. It crooks the glasses on top of his nose a little, but he doesn't seem to mind. You feel the corners of his mouth perk up, and you can't help but follow suit. Leaning back a little, you brush his choppy fringe out of his face, letting your hand rest at the nape of his neck. "I couldn't handle one more second of old men assuming they can do my job better than me."

"Dude, stop feeling up your girlfriend, I need cover," a voice comes over the mic, blaring straight into his headphones. Wonwoo clicks his tongue.

"If your point was to sound bitter about having to nut into your own fist every night, you succeeded," Wonwoo retorts before easily picking off an enemy right behind on-screen Soonyoung. You make yourself smaller, so he gets a full view of the tv. "You're welcome," he adds, and Soonyoung's laughter can be heard coming from the other side of the voice chat.

"Touché."

"You're so cool," you murmur against the skin of his collarbones, neatly settling further onto his lap. "And such a nerd. But like, the hot kind." At this, he barks out a laugh; the sound like music to your ears.

It takes a little squirming and trying to make yourself fit into his embrace without interrupting the game too much, and you sigh in content when you find the perfect position. Wonwoo's hips buck up on instinct as you move around, and he shoots you an apologetic smile when you brush your lips against his jaw in response.

"It was just…. A really shitty day, you know," you say in tiny, the words barely a whisper as you lazily rock against him. Wonwoo instantly picks up the hint, already hardening underneath you.

He pushes his mic up, muting it in one swift motion so Soonyoung doesn't overhear. “Do you want to fuck?”

You nuzzle into his neck, lazily nipping at the skin. “I just want to feel you, I think.”

Wonwoo manages a soft chuckle and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Give me a second to end the game."

"It's okay," you say, as his hand moves to unmute his mic. "You can continue playing if you want."

The look he gives you in response is almost comical. "I'll sit still, I promise." You give him a quick peck on the lips, and Wonwoo's reluctance dissolves in an instant.

Shifting uncomfortably, you take off your jeans as Wonwoo pulls down his shorts, cock visibly strained against his briefs now. He curtly speaks into his mic, taking note of something Soonyoung's character just did on-screen behind you.

A few seconds pass before you move, taking in all of Wonwoo before you first. He's always been handsome—his sharp features turning more than a few heads. He's bulked up since you first got together (which made him even sexier if that was possible), with his shoulders now broader and his arms toned to perfection, but your favourite part of him has always been his eyes. There's something inherently gentle about them; a warm brown colour that shines whenever he laughs, or darkens whenever he glances up at you from between your legs.

Something clenches in your chest when Wonwoo turns to meet your gaze, a smile on his lips. Something similar happens in your gut when he reaches out to touch you over your panties. The gesture isn't demanding or lustful, and you sigh into the feeling.

Wonwoo slips past your folds, two fingers checking if you're slick enough to take him without extra help. The corner of his mouth tugs into a smirk, but he swallows the words on the tip of his tongue, knowing they don't fit the mood you're after.

As soon as he fills you up, your form slacks against his chest. It's comforting in having him this close, being this intimate with the man that makes your heart burst in the best way possible. Your arms snake around his waist, your cheek now resting against his shoulder.

"Can you move forward just a tiny bit so I can koala-wrap myself around you?" you mumble against the fabric of his shirt, and there's a sharp intake of breath from him when he lifts his hips to comply, his cock moving inside you.

Soonyoung mistakes it for a disappointed reaction to his failed offence, and you can hear his voice through the headphones over Wonwoo's ears. Wonwoo is quick to reply, his low tone reverberating through his chest and vibrating against your cheek.

Another thing you love about him, that voice of his. You could listen to him talk for hours. Which you hope he does, and is the reason you told him to keep playing in the first place.

There's no sound but the dull clicking of Wonwoo's controller and machine-gun fire coming from his headphones for a while, and you can feel your body begin to relax—all the tension previously stored between your shoulder blades now slipping off you, like raindrops sliding down a window.

Wonwoo's a decent size; not too big to sting when he first fucks you, but big enough to always make you feel so full, so satisfied. It's something you're not afraid to reiterate every so often, which he appreciates in the right context (you once let it slip at movie night when you were beyond horny, and Wonwoo had to excuse himself ten minutes later because he had no idea your mouth could be so foul, and he didn't want his friends to see the obvious problem in his pants).

He lasts longer than you thought he would—too caught up in his game to notice how every little move he makes in reaction to whatever is unfolding on screen is starting to affect you. It's subtle, the way he moves inside you, but the thrusts are sharp and clean as he moves the controller to one side and back, his body jolting forward when Soonyoung fails to cover him and his screen flashes red. It isn't until you clench around him, that he stills.

As your fingers tangle into his hair at the base of his neck, you tilt your head, waiting for a quiet moment to lift his headphones just enough to tell him, "Okay, now I want to fuck."

To accentuate the words, you gently lift your hips, sinking back down just as slowly, only to repeat the action once more. Wonwoo groans in response, his hand gripping your waist to stop you, and you lean back to watch his face for any signs that he might not want this. You interpret his actions as rejecting your advances, but soon he's pushing up your t-shirt to grope at your breasts, and you moan when he thumbs over one of your sensitive nubs.

"I heard that," Soonyoung's voice comes over the headset, and you're already too worked up to care. Wonwoo smiles when you roll your hips, grinding onto his cock in slow motions. He licks his lips, gaze trained on yours as he drops the controller onto the floor.

"Goodbye, Soonyoung," he says into the mic before taking off the headset, not even bothering to mute it.

You half expect him to be rough. To pin you down on the sofa and rail you into oblivion. Instead, he kisses you. The kind of kiss that makes your head spin—slow and hot, his tongue lapping against yours languidly. There are little, sweet pecks in between. One on your nose, one on your cheek, one on your eyelids, and you giggle into the kiss when he pulls you back in for what seems the nth time. His cock is still buried inside of you, snug and warm, unmoving, until you buck your hips to meet his and he groans.

“Quit stalling, Jeon,” you sigh into his mouth. Your teeth graze along his lower lip before stopping at the corner of his mouth, kissing the edge of his smile. “If you don’t touch me this instant, I’m going to spontaneously combust.”

He glances between you, to where your bodies meet, and gently lifts his hips to move out of you. “I bet I could make you cum untouched right now,” he says, tentatively swiping a finger between your folds again. You quiver in his arms, already too sensitive from having him inside you for so long, and you hate how he’s probably right.

“Maybe so, but where’s the fun in that?”

“I get to use my dirty talk voice,” he offers, already lowering his tone to make a point. “Tell you all the things I would do if I were to touch you.” You clench around nothing, suddenly feeling too empty to your liking. “You can blow me after.”

Every nerve in your body is on edge, skin crawling in anticipation, and you desperately want to say no. But Wonwoo’s eyes are sparkling as he hovers over you, and god, he’s so fucking hot. At this point, you are positively soaked, pussy throbbing and aching for his touch, anything he’d be willing to offer, and he’s still smiling at you.

“Fuck me now and I’ll still blow you after.”

Wonwoo pouts, but instinctively lowers himself to kiss you when you hook your ankles behind his back, pulling him closer to you again. When he pushes back in, you’re scared you won’t last long. You tell him as much, and he shakes his head in feigned disbelief. “Quelle surprise,” he mocks, and he jerks his pelvis forward, easily bottoming out before pulling back out, repeating to build up a steady rhythm. It’s agonisingly slow, his cock curving just the right way to hit the spot over and over again, and your breath hitches with every thrust. “Want me to go faster?” he asks, tongue lapping at the abused skin right below your collarbone, where his mouth just successfully marked you as his. You shake your head no, unable to speak.

As tension builds in your abdomen, your eyes fall shut, your eyebrows knit together, and your lips shape into a silent O. Wonwoo feels his heart rate increase when your breath starts to shudder with every exhale. He can tell you’re trying to hold back your moans and he really wishes you wouldn't. “Use your words, baby,” he says, his voice cracking as he pushes into you again. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want- hnnng, fuck,” you manage, right when his thumb presses down on your clit, and your back arches off the sofa. “Keep going. I’mhhmmmmm- almost there.”

A few more trusts have you toppling over the edge, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. Wonwoo presses his lips to yours, swallowing the moans that finally push their way out of your throat. Your thighs shake as he ploughs into you a few more times, finally picking up speed to chase his own climax.

It's not long until Wonwoo half collapses on top of you, chest to chest, and he chuckles as both of you struggle to catch your breath.

"Still want me to suck you off?" you ask, half in jest, but you did promise.

He pushes a stray lock of hair from your sweaty forehead, his hand stopping to rest against your cheek. "Maybe later." You beam at him and suddenly the room falls quiet, now that your breathing has levelled out. There's a faint rattle of gunfire coming from behind the sofa, and you exchange glances as something dawns on you both.

"Did you mute your—"

“Oh shit, Soonyoung—“

#caratwritersclub #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo scenario #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenario #wonwoo x reader #i had to get this one out of my system thanks #the more i read it the more i doubt it so i'm just going to. PRESS POST.

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festiveferret · 3 years

Text

Booty Call (Steve/Tony)

(Read it on AO3)

Tony stepped out of the shower and checked his phone while he rubbed a towel through his hair. There was one missed call from Steve. Frowning, Tony glanced at the time. It was rare for Steve to call after nine, but it was pushing midnight. Without bothering to check his voicemail, Tony hit redial, and put the phone on speaker while he finished drying off.

"Hello?"

"Hey, buddy. It's Tony. Everything okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, sure," Steve sounded confused.

"You called me. It's late. Just wanted to make sure you're alright."

"Oh? Oh… yeah. Sorry, Tony. It wasn't anything important." Steve sighed. "Actually… actually, it was just a booty call."

If Tony had been eating or drinking, the entire contents of his mouth would have ended up sprayed across the bathroom mirror. "Excuse me?"

"Uh, yeah. Sorry to have bothered you."

"No, no, it's -" he blinked at his own reflection. Well. "No, it's no bother. Honestly. I mean… I'd be down to come over and hang." Tony held his breath.

"Oh, really? Sure, yeah. That'd be really nice. It's not too late?"

"Not for me. I just stepped out of the shower actually." He wondered if he should add something about being naked, but he was surprised Steve was comfortable with the concept of a booty call at all; phone sex might be pushing it. "I'll come down."

"Okay, great." Steve sounded significantly more chipper than before. "See you soon!"

Tony hung up and threw on clothes at random. It wasn't like he'd be wearing them for long. He brushed his teeth, gargled some mouthwash, and blasted out the door. By the time he knocked on Steve's, his palms were sweaty, and he was rocking up and down on his heels. Had Steve noticed his crush over the last few months? Or maybe, maybe he had his own crush? Either way, Tony's heart was pounding and he couldn't seem to calm it.

Steve opened the door with a smile. "Hi, Tony. I'm really glad you came over. Wasn't expecting to see you tonight."

Tony shut the door behind him and shifted closer. "Well, you know, how could I refuse such an enticing offer?"

Steve frowned. "Offer?"

"Mhm." Tony shifted even closer. He could do this. It didn't count as making the first move when you'd literally been invited over for sex, right? Steve was a gentleman; he wasn't going to want to push Tony into anything. So Tony kissed him.

When he pulled back, Steve's cheeks were incredibly red, and his eyes were incredibly wide, and his eyebrows looked like they were on an expedition to the North Pole. "Um," Steve said. "Okay?"

Tony licked his lips self-consciously. Did he taste weird? "Uh. You seem surprised? Did you get confused watching Pretty Woman and think booty calls don't kiss on the lips? Cause I do."

Steve's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again. Then he took out his phone. "One second," he creaked out, his voice a rusty cellar door hinge. He typed for a moment then scrolled, and his cheeks glowed redder and redder. Finally, he cleared his throat roughly and tucked his phone back in his pocket. "Butt dial," he barely managed to whisper.

"Pardon?" Tony's genius brain tried to jump four or five steps ahead, but Tony reeled it right back in again. None of the available conclusions to jump to were fun ones.

"I - it's called a butt dial. Not a booty call. I, um. I must have misremembered that one." Steve looked about two seconds from truly putting to the test whether spontaneous human combustion was possible, so Tony took two careful steps backwards, out of Steve's space.

"Ha!" he said loudly, in a way that was absolutely not a laugh. "Ha. That's funny."

"Um."

Tony turned to the door. "Well, I'm leaving now and we will spend twenty-four hours doing whatever punching-bag-yoga-calls-to-the-therapist healing needs to happen here and then I'll see you again on Monday and this will never have happened. Goodnight!"

"Wait!"

Tony froze, then turned to see Steve reaching tentatively out towards him.

"I read what it was," Steve said.

"What?"

"I read what a booty call actually was. That's what you thought I meant. You came here thinking I wanted to have sex with you."

"Steve, the whole point of pretending something didn't happen is so we don't need to talk about it."

"But I want it to happen. To have happened." He frowned. "I want that. I want to pretend I knew all along what it really was. You wouldn't have come up if you didn't want to sleep with me, right? You would have said no. So that means you do. And I do too. With you."

Tony swallowed twice, letting that information percolate through his brain like a game of Plinko. "Oh. Okay. Well. You want to have sex with me?"

Steve smiled tentatively. "I want to do pretty much everything with you. But yes, I very much want to touch you." His eyes wandered down Tony's body like the super serum had given him x-ray vision as well. "And a booty call would be great, but if a date call is on the table too, I'd like that very much."

"Well, shit. Okay." Tony shifted back into Steve's space, but once bitten, twice shy. He waited.

Steve ducked down and kissed him firmly on the mouth. When he pulled back, he grinning brilliantly.

"Date call, huh?"

"Yes, please. If you want."

"Oh, I want," Tony breathed. "I've wanted for a while."

"Perfect." Steve gathered Tony up in his arms and carted him off towards the bedroom. "One favour?"

"Yeah?"

"If you haven't already, don't listen to the voicemail I left you. Or rather, my butt left you. It'll ruin the illusion when you find it out that it's just five minutes of me watching home renovation shows and grumbling about hardwood installation."

Tony grinned and snuggled deeper into Steve's hold, giddy for the best night of his life he knew he was about to be treated to - and hopefully many more nights after. "Don't worry, gorgeous, I'll just close my eyes and imagine you said something else about hard wood."

Steve laughed so hard he almost dropped him. Off to a good start.

#stony #fanfiction #my writing #absolute nonsense #ficlets

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years

Text

Diving Bell - Andy Barber smut

The one where Andy has been a patient librarian, but now that you’ve accepted his advances...

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, dubcon, (andy pushes the relationship into boundaries that weren’t previously consented), age gap, (reader is over eighteen and in college), semi-public sex, somewhat of an exhibitionism kink, oral (f), andy’s definitely dark but reader is generally into it, she just doesn’t know what “it” will be, dirty talk

Word count: 3k<

A/N: this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them, instead of on Thursdays, which are my usual one-shot posting days. Hope you guys like it!

Reader’s P.O.V.

My face burned and I wondered how I hadn’t spontaneously combusted from how hot I felt under the hot new librarian’s gaze. Sure, the girls had warned me about it - I’d hear so much about him, in fact, that I was sure I’d be disappointed when I actually did manage to meet him.

Boy, was I wrong.

He was the definition of daddy, luscious beard and hair just begging to be pulled and I could feel the burn his jaw would leave behind if he deposited kisses down my neck - or better yet, on the insides of my thighs - but he was at least twenty years older than me.

There was absolutely no way I’d ever catch his attention. Not when so many girls had tried to get in his pants - girls hotter than me - and had failed miserably, as I’d been told time and time again from the very same seductresses.

So I saw absolutely no point in trying. Although, one could very well admire, right? Also, fantasize couldn’t do any harm, not even to my extremely vulnerable pride. It’s not like I could control it, anyway.

But another thing I couldn’t control was his effect on me. The way my whole body warmed up when I felt his eyes on it, how I couldn’t immediately focus on his words whenever he addressed me. I even stopped coming to the library to study because 1) I couldn’t concentrate with him around and 2) his presence had brought a whole new wave of first-time library users, and seeing as their interests weren’t on the actual books, they tended to be extremely loud.

Once essays started to get assigned though, there wasn’t much I could do. I had to get back to the library, and so I chose to go when it was already dark, hoping he wouldn’t pick up that shift, and knowing most frat girls would be at an impromptu Thursday-night party to celebrate (once again) the start of classes.

I didn’t understand why they couldn’t just throw a party for the sake of partying. Did they have to reuse the same excuse, over and over again? It’s not like anyone cared. I certainly didn’t, and the people who went for the free beer didn’t care about anything just as long as the alcohol kept flowing.

“What are you doing here?” His voice startled me, almost making me drop the pile of books I’d been gathering. Even though there was no way I’d confuse him with someone else, I still looked over my shoulder to make sure it was really him, that he was actually there, staring at me with those caring warm brown eyes.

“S-should I be anywhere else?” I tried to sass, even if my own voice gave me away. He chuckled though, extending a hand to help me with the load in my arms, and although I hesitated for a second, I ended up accepting his help. It was his job, after all. This couldn’t really be considered flirting, right?

“I don’t know. I’ve heard about this party tonight, figured you’d be there.” Frowning, I finally turned to stare at him directly in the eyes, almost immediately regretting my decision. Damn, he looked good.

“How do you know about the party?” I asked, and his lips immediately curled up, trying to contain a smile from stretching over his face.

“Some girls may or may not have invited me to meet them there.” Clicking my tongue, I decided to look back at the bookshelf, instead of paying him any more attention.

“Why? Are you jealous?” The question felt too much like something a fuckboy my age might ask me at a party, not a forty-year-old man who worked a full-time job. When I turned to look at him again, eyebrows raised high, he chuckled.

“Sorry, that’s not usually my style… I’m just at a loss of ways to get you to notice me, that’s all.” Well, now I was beyond shocked.

“Why do you want me to notice you?” I asked, utterly confused, but Andy just laughed, shaking his head at me like he was profoundly amused by my ways.

“I always notice when you’re around. Even worse, I always notice when you aren’t.” And then, as he looked around like he wanted to make sure other people wouldn’t hear him, he leaned over me and confessed, “It gets pretty lonely here without you.”

The accompanying wink almost gave me a heart attack. Stuttering out something even though I didn’t know what to say, I moved away from the bookshelf in search of the nearest table, finding it thankfully empty.

When I turned around to look for him again, he was right by my side.

“I don’t get it,” I managed to admit once my arms were book-free. “We’ve talked like twice. You helped me find books, I acted like a fool. You weren’t supposed to flirt with me, why aren’t you interested in the college girls who actually hit on you?”

He raised his eyebrows before frowning, hands deep in his pockets as he stared down at me in all of his height. “Have you ever considered… that I just don’t want them?”

The insinuation stirred something deep inside of me, leaving me flushed and overall a mess. Stumbling out an apology, I gathered my stuff and left as quickly as possible, determined to process what had happened that evening by myself, so it could actually feel real and I could decide what to do from then on.

But something changed ever since that evening. I stopped trying to run away from him and started to actively go to the library in the times I knew he was there, at first still avoiding him and looking away every time he caught me staring, silently grateful that he didn’t try to force me to open up to him.

His patience was rewarded when in a few weeks, I began to talk to him again. Asking him for book recommendations, never anything other than what was strictly related to his job, but the way his eyes glinted knowingly at me warned me that he did understand where my mind was at.

It didn’t take long for him to start flirting with me, and from then on, I slowly accepted his advances and even began to eagerly wait for them.

I smiled widely when I heard his low whistle, admiring the way he looked in that comfortable sweater as he put away the books he was holding to fully give me all of his attention.

“Well, don’t you look incredible?” He asked as I twirled so he could fully see the dress I’d put on just for him. “Did you dress up for me, pretty girl? Because I like to think that you did.”

Biting my lower lip, I tried to gather the courage I’d been trying to build up all week, before finally nodding and admitting, “Yes, I did.” From the stupefied look on his face, it didn’t seem like he was expecting that. Even worse, I wasn’t expecting the outcome of my little attempt to flirt back.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” And that was all the warning I got before his hands cradled my face and he took my mouth in his, kissing me breathless, leaving me aching and soaked when he finally released me.

I was panting by the time he let go of my lips, and he smiled softly at me as he brushed over my cheekbones, saying, “You know… if you ever need anything… You know I’m always here to help.”

Andy’s P.O.V.

“So, what brings you here tonight?” My own smile denounced just how much of her intentions I already knew, from how well I knew her. Her late-night visits to the library had become more and more frequent, and I couldn’t say that I hated it.

“I don’t know,” she feigned nonchalance, shrugging while perusing the bookshelves before looking back at me from over her shoulder. “The hot new librarian in charge of the night shift has told me he was always available to help me with anything I needed, and I’ve been needing a distraction.”

My chuckle was low, in order not to interrupt the few students still trying to finish whatever assignment they were working on, but she heard it. I watched as she shivered at the sound of my voice, prompting me to lick my lips at the powerful reaction I could so easily elicit from her.

“You didn’t use to be so blunt,” I teased, remembering how she used to come in here looking for me, only to run away at the last second. It was adorable. Ever since I started working at this university, it wasn’t unusual for college girls to come in groups and watch me from a distance, their giggles whenever I glanced at them unmistakable in the almost completely silent environment. Eventually, one or two would always break away from the group and try to flirt while their friends became a captive audience, but I was quick to shut them down.

They weren’t the one I wanted. She was standing in front of me now, pretending to be interested in a random book, biting her lower lip to keep a smile from spreading over her face. “Do you miss it?”

There was something undeniably attractive by her shyness back then, her inability to ask me for information or even sustain my gaze, but now that I knew what it was like to have her meet my eyes, now that I’d had the luxury of hearing her speak, of getting to know the intricacies of her mind, how could I miss what was, back then, a stranger?

“Not at all.” Her laughter, even subdued because of the place we were in, was enough to have my stomach doing backflips. I had to smile, instinctively getting closer to her, just like a moth, drawn to a flame.

“I want to do dirty, dirty things to you,” I admitted, one hand on the back of her head as I pressed her against the bookshelf, my lips just over her ear as my beard undoubtedly tickled her neck. “Can’t very well protect my soul if I’m still thinking about you as an innocent little thing, now can I?”

Her eyes dropped down to my lips before meeting mine again, and just like that, I had all the authorization I needed to connect our lips and kiss her breathless. Humming in delight against her quiet neediness, her eagerness to open her lips, welcome my tongue with hers, I blindly moved us further towards the back of the library, relaxed in the knowledge that amongst taxidermia books no one would come to check on us.

Not that I cared all that much if they did.

“Hm… Want me, sweetheart?” I pressed, needing to hear her say it, taking sick pleasure in knowing this came from her, this was her own desire. She almost didn’t answer me, eyelids heavily pressing her eyes closed when our mouths parted, but in the absence of my touch on her, she jolted.

“Yeah, I do! I do, I do…” She insisted, pressing herself against me, feeling just how badly I wanted her too. It made her gasp, witnessing how hard she had made me - she didn’t know it yet, but it’d been this way ever since the first day.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” I whispered, just to see the way goosebumps took over her flesh while I got rid of her underwear, moving us towards an empty table where I could lay her out to take.

“No, I don’t want you to stop,” she moaned when she saw me leaning over to kiss between her legs, eyes still connected to hers until she closed them to throw her head back, overtaken by the sensation of my warm tongue slipping between her folds. It was better that way, she wouldn’t see the dangerous smirk that denounced that she would come to regret her words before I was done with her.

She tasted just as sweet as I always imagined her to. So wet already, it was clear she was desperate for me. The cock straining against my pants reminded me I couldn’t be too cocky about it - I wanted her just as badly.

“C’mon, honey…” I teased, dipping my tongue in her hole as my thumb frantically rubbed her tiny clit. “Give me more, I want more.” I needed her to cum before I could shove my cock into her. It was important.

The sudden tension of her thighs denounced the arrival of her orgasm, and where usually I’d love nothing more than to keep licking her, delighting myself with her taste and overstimulating her sweet body until she was crying, there was only so much I could take tonight.

“There you go,” I complimented when she easily succumbed to my directions, having turned her around and laid her with her stomach on the table, legs dangling off of it. “Want to feel me now, pretty girl? Want me to fill you now?”

Her answer was a whine as her hips searched for mine. She was offering herself to me, the innocent little thing. Didn’t know I’d take her regardless of it.

I had the instinct of slapping my hand over her mouth as I penetrated her, and so her moan came out muffled. I could still understand a breathless, “so good…” being uttered against my palm, and it only made me bite down on my lip harder, so my own sounds wouldn’t reverberate across the silent library.

It was a twisted kind of pleasure to hold her arms back as I fucked her roughly but as silently as possible, trying not to make the table squeak so it wouldn’t draw attention to us. Even though I didn’t particularly care if someone did find us - I wouldn’t stop fucking her if God himself tried to intervene - I’d prefer to reach my goal without unwanted interferances.

So I was glad she didn’t seem to mind the fact that anyone could easily look our way and see us fucking. Had I really tempted her that much, that she would let me do whatever I wanted to her body, just as long as I fucked her?

Guess I was about to find out.

“Do you know how many times I masturbated in the back room, thinking about this sweet pussy?” I asked, voice raspy with desire as I kept jackhammering her as quietly as possible, but probably failing to do so in the midst of my arousal. “To think I finally have it now, wrapped around my dick…” My voice faltered as I realized all of my dreams were about to come true, right at that moment.

“Can’t wait to fuck my cum back into you, sweetheart. I’m gonna keep you so full from now on.” I felt her body tense underneath my fingers as she processed my words, but it was too late for her now. My hand still over her mouth, I stopped her from screaming or fighting me in any way.

“Just relax, honey. Doesn’t it feel so good?” I mocked, fucking her harder and harder as my control slipped from me. “It feels good for me, too. So now you’ll have to take it.”

Reaching around for her clit, I started rubbing it in quick little motions, desperate to feel her cunt clenching around me once more, milking my cum.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Cum again for me. Let me keep making you feel good as you do the same for me.” Her orgasm had her legs raising between mine, right when I started to spill inside of her, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Once I was sure she wouldn’t scream, I took my hand away and pushed her back against the desk, massaging her ass eagerly, hoping it would take.

“You’ll look so good all round with my child.” Once I pulled my cock from her, I made sure to adjust her underwear so it would stop my cum from flowing, massaging the damp tissue with a smug expression.

She managed to turn around in my embrace, blinking confusedly, mouth opening and closing as if she couldn’t quite figure out what she wanted to say, and I cooed at her adorableness.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you and the little one.” I rubbed my hand over where she would soon grow, licking my lips at the mental image of her pregnant. God, why did that make me so hard?

“You can trust me,” I assured her, pulling her closer to I could kiss her forehead, before adjusting her body so it rested on mine. I knew there were tears rolling down her cheeks, but it was just from her coming down from the adrenaline high. She wanted this. She just needed to be able to think clearly to see just how perfect this would be. “We’ll be so happy together.”

#tw dubcon #My 2k challenge #my fics #andy barber smut #librarian au #andy barber #smut #andy barber x reader #andy barber reader #andy barber reader insert #andy barber reader inserts #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x you

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clefairymuke · 3 years

Text

regrets | chapter eighteen

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 2018

His composure was frightening. You sat across from him at his desk, still half struggling to regulate your breathing as he poured still-steaming tea into your cup. It was as if nothing had happened: no fighting, no ignoring, and definitely no shameless and obnoxiously loud sex. He was a strange soul. He had cleaned you up rather quickly afterwards and directed you to his shower, leaving you with ten minutes to come to terms with what had just happened; however, you were left only with questions. When you returned, he was bringing his teapot from the stove to his desk, on which sat two teacups and a small stack of papers.

Your hair, combed back out of your face, was still damp; every so often, you felt cold little drops of water trickling down your neck and into the clean shirt Levi had given you to wear. You were sure his trousers wouldn't be the best fit; instead, you opted for just underwear. The shirt fell low enough, you thought. White socks kept your feet cozy as they could be, tucked beneath your thighs in a criss-cross. No words yet. That concerned you.

You cleared your throat and took a sip of your tea; it burned the tip of your tongue a bit, but you didn't mind. You could taste hibiscus. "That was . . . nice," you commented before mentally cursing yourself. What the hell was that? That was nice? Really? you thought, shrinking into yourself.

He chuckled — a rarity — and shook his head. You watched the way his fingers gripped the teacup from the top, lifting it to his lips in a way that you'd think would be uncomfortable, but he made it look fluid and natural. "Why do you hold it like that?" you asked, curious. His brow furrowed a bit, looking at you, unsure of what exactly you were asking. "The cup, I mean," you clarified. "The way you hold it is strange."

He looked down at it before meeting your gaze yet again. "That's a conversation for another day. You have dinner to get to soon, you know."

"You aren't going?" You pouted a bit without meaning to. His eyes were understanding, a tiny smile creeping across his lips.

"I'd rather stay in," he replied. "You can too, if you want." His tone was nonchalant and yet peaceful — a stark change from that of only an hour before. It was the comforting sound you'd grown accustomed to before he sealed it away behind his freshly-mortared wall of excuses. Worrisomely curious of him as you were, however, you couldn't help but wonder what was unfolding behind the slate grey stare that was impaling your own as you sat across from him. Your questions had yet to subside, and it was doubtful that they would. Levi was not one for blatant explanation, usually — his bluntness was at times occluded by his unwillingness to admit his own shortcomings. Counting the times you had to dedicate critical thinking to his invisible emotions would keep you busy well past dinnertime. You swirled your finger along the rim of your cup, getting lost in your thoughts.

You couldn't help how your eyes lingered on the man in front of you as he began to focus on the stack of papers in front of him. As his head tilted down to read the hand-written words, his still-messy hair occluded his forehead. Its inky color matched that of his eyebrows, drawn down in concentration to frame silver eyes. His nose sloped elegantly to a point, resting just above full, pink lips. His features were soft where they needed to be and chiseled where they didn't — his cheeks were full and plush-looking, while his jaw angled sharply into his chin. He was beautiful.

"Why are you staring at me?" he deadpanned, not bothering to meet your eyes.

"You're really pretty." I should just leave now, you decided. Why does my mouth allow this kind of shit to come out of it? This is getting annoying.

He looked up at you with one brow cocked up in questioning. You felt like getting up and walking out was a solid option; deserting couldn't possibly lead to a fate worse than this. You wondered if it would be more embarrassing to look for your pants first or just risk someone seeing you.

"How have you been sleeping?" he asked. You let out an audible sigh of relief; a subject change was much-needed to prevent your spontaneous combustion.

You shrugged at him. "I haven't, really. An hour or two a night is the extent of it." You yawned, right on cue. His eyebrow fell from mocking to its typical position for concern, making you grin. "I don't know why that surprises you."

"It doesn't. You look tired," he answered bluntly. If it came from anyone else, especially in a tone such as his, you might consider it an insult; however, the way his hand found yours across his desk and laid atop it reassured you otherwise. You found yourself gazing down at it, inspecting the way each blue-green vein trekked its own path across the pale landscape. You were quickly redirected by the fingers of his other hand finding your chin and lifting gently until your eyes met his. You experienced something not unlike chills down your spine as his thumb grazed your cheek before returning to his side. "What keeps you up?"

"That's a conversation for another day. It was really easy to get to sleep when you stayed with me in the infirmary, though. I would say I have trouble being by myself, but I haven't slept in a room alone in a long time." You shrugged again, watching gears turn in his eyes as he thought on your words.

His hand shifted from laying atop yours to grasping it, his thumb loosely caressing the top of it as you waited for him to speak. It was strange how this made you feel — the intimacy felt foreign despite how close you were to him only a half hour earlier. Something so common and simple was so unheard of when it came to him. You thought of how your sweaty hand felt in Jean's death-grip earlier that day, comparing it to the gentle hold Levi had on you now. This must be why couples hold hands for so long. "Let's get you something to eat," he said, finally.

He rose from his seat and started toward the back of his suite, which held an icebox and a wood-burning stove; he opted instead for the pantry. From it, he retrieved something wrapped in cloth and a jar of red jam. You stared open-mouthed at him. "I've been eating the same nasty soup as breakfast for weeks and you've had jam this whole time?"

He chuckled, unfolding the cloth to expose a loaf of bread. He pulled a breadknife from a drawer and began to cut it into slices. "Bread or toast? I'm about to put a skillet on for myself." He looked back at you, eyes absorbing yours into what felt like one of a thousand trances he'd held you in in the past few hours.

"Toast sounds nice," you replied, tapping your fingers absentmindedly on the wood of his desk. Your vision wandered yet again to the contents of the room, exploring every spotless inch like it was the last time you'd see it — with how hot and cold he could be, it very well may have been the last time. "How do you keep it so clean in here all the time?" you asked curiously.

He scoffed as he put the skillet on the stove, not even turning to acknowledge you.

---

The sky had become dark as it acted as a simple backdrop to your evening with Levi. The two of you had eaten at his desk; however, you were unsure of how he managed to finish between all of his not-so-kind comments about you allowing crumbs to fall on his desk and floor. You helped him clean up afterward to soothe his complaints, but his colorful language didn't cease until it looked as if no one had eaten anything at all — ever.

You now sat on his sofa, tucked in the corner of it with your knees drawn to your chest. The evening had brought on cooler weather than you would've liked, but you refused to complain. The company you had was worth a bit of a chill. Levi was perched on the other end of the couch, sipping tea and reading from a fistful of papers. The way he simply lived as if it were a typical day almost made you laugh; he didn't seem the type to entertain company, and today proved that he surely wasn't.

Besides, your friends would soon be wondering about your whereabouts, and your eyes were growing tired. It would soon be time to head back to the dorms for another battle with sleep, but you found comfort in the idea of not fighting with your own emotions to top it off. You thought maybe it wouldn't take too awfully long to get to sleep that night.

"Levi," you said, voice soft and full of sleep. He looked up at you, laying his papers in his lap and devoting his attention to your words. Little things like that were difficult to notice, but they meant everything once you did — it reminded you that no matter how dismissive he may act at times, he still cared enough to listen. "I think I need to get changed and head back. It's getting late."

He leaned forward and placed the documents on the table in front of him, blank-faced beckoning you toward him with one finger as if he was calling you for a scolding. In his eyes, on the other hand, you saw soft, inviting pools of silver. You scooted over to his side, letting your feet rest on the cool ground. He took your hand in his, reminding you again how secure and comfortable he was capable of making you feel. "Will you be able to get to sleep?" he asked, running his thumb across the top of your hand.

You shook your head at him. "Probably not. But I can't really stay here, you know."

He nodded, letting loose his hold on your hand. "I know. Your clothes are laid out on my bed. You can go change."

You got up from his side and went into his room, shutting the door behind you. Every part of you wanted to crawl into his bed and rest, despite obvious reasons telling you you couldn't. You changed as quickly as you could, leaving his shirt folded neatly near his pillow. When you left his room, he was still sat on the sofa. He rose quickly and met you in the middle of the room, escorting you to the door.

"My leg works fine now, you know. You don't have to walk me everywhere anymore," you laughed, shaking your head. He didn't reply, though; he simply opened the door for you.

"Don't break anything on your way back," he told you. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes growing more prominent as the night continued forward.

"No promises. I'll see you tomorrow?" you asked, a mischievous grin covering your lips.

You watched as he considered that for a moment, unsure of his answer. Finally, he settled on, "We'll see." You nodded at him, smiling, knowing that "we'll see" was as close to a yes as you could get with Levi. You started to walk out, but your brain stopped you in your tracks, turning to face the man with his gaze still fixed on you. Deliberation with yourself took place within less than a second as you leaned in close, kissing him quickly before turning on your heel and starting your trek back to the dorms.

A few yards away, you allowed your head to turn back at him, delighted to see that his eyes were still on you.

#AoT #levi aot #aot fic #attack on titan #levi attack on titan #enemies to lovers #slowburn #levi x reader #levi #levi smut #levi fluff #levi angst #snk #snk fic #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman

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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

the one i was meant to find

request: from nonnie! “soulmate au with George??? maybe tattoos or something with the red thread of fate?”

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

warning(s): angst, mentions of impending war, torture, sadness, anxiety

desc: your seventh year takes a wild turn when umbridge announces the arranged establishing of relationships to keep things in order. keep things in order? sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? people shouldn’t be paired off, you should find one another through fate! so when umbitchbridge ultimately decides to pair students off by blood status, it seems as though fate (or the ministry) is pulling you and your boyfriend miles and miles apart.

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @feffffffy @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbstrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook @izzytheninja @imboredandneedalife @hemmoporro @valwritesx @heavenlymidnight | message me to be added!

Umbridge’s slimy voice rang violently throughout the Great Hall. Suddenly everything sounded very muffled in your ears, and you swallowed thickly in the hopes of unpopping them. Your breathing became heavy, just as it had that winter day at the Weasley home.

You’d been sitting outside the Burrow in the snow near the garden shed with the lot of them, before Fred, Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all excused themselves, leaving you and George alone. You’d sworn that you’d seen Fred wink at you before vanishing inside the bustling home. You’d bit down on your lip, knowing exactly what he’d been trying to do. Damnit, Fred.

You’d stolen a glance at George, who’d looked as calm as could be. That hadn’t helped your nerves at all. Neither had the slight mistletoe that had materialized above you both, the unmistakable sound of Frederick Weasley cackling emanating from the second floor of the house.

“You know,” George began, his voice steady as a rock as he inched closer toward you. He lifted his eyes to glance above you both. “Legend has it that if you don’t song whoever you’re with whenever mistletoe appears, you’re both cursed for life.”

You’d actually snorted and immediately caved in on yourself. How embarrassing was that? Your cheeks flooded red, both from the embarrassment and from the way his laughter had warmed your entire body. You’d hadn’t even known what to say. “You’re full of it, Weasley,”

He’d placed a hand dramatically across his chest. The tips of his ears and nose were pink from the cold, and you’d sworn you were going to spontaneously combust at the sheer sight of it. “Swear to Merlin, Y/N, I read about it.”

“You? Read about it? Sure. In what -- Ten Ways To Charm Your Crush?” you’d internally scolded yourself for saying something so bloody stupid, but George had clearly thought it was cute because his grin deepened alongside the dramatic drumbeat of your heart. You’d decided to dive in head first. “I reckon you just want to kiss me.”

His features had twisted into a childish smirk and the wind ruffled his bit of bright red hair sticking out from his hat. A few snowflakes had fallen onto his eyelashes and melted when he’d blinked. “Absolutely, I do.”

He’d caught your lips with his in a moment of clarity. It was new and invigorating and familiar all at once. You may had been informed of your magical abilities at the age of eleven, much to the surprise of your Muggle parents, but in all the years you’d been attending Hogwarts, you’d never felt magic quite like this. The feeling of his eyelashes brushing against your cheekbones and his tongue gliding gently over your bottom lip had sent you gasping for air --

A hand on the small of your back pulled you from your memory. You turned to your side and looked at George for some reassurance, except all he was able to give you were worried eyes and a clenched jaw. You noticed the way his eyes glistened, but not the way they had underneath the snow and the stars and the mistletoe. They were glistening with tears.

“You can’t pair people off like this!” Yells were ringing throughout the Great Hall, along with complaints and quite a few expletives. You squeezed George’s hand. All you wanted him to do was tell you everything would be okay. “George, she can’t --”

Umbridge kept on talking, annoyingly enough, and you were surprised at how loudly her words echoed in your ears. “The Ministry has concluded, boys and girls, that students will be paired off by blood status. Pure-bloods are to marry pure-bloods, half-bloods with half-bloods, Muggle-borns with Muggle-borns. No intermingling will be tolerated. There will be daily checks to make sure you are abiding by the rules. Be warned, children, there will be disciplinary actions for those refusing to obey. No exceptions.”

You felt as though your throat was closing up. George’s face was blurry through your vision, but you could still see the worried look glazing over his eyes. How the hell did she expect to pull this off -- daily checks? This woman was absolutely mad. Somehow though, you knew she’d stop at nothing to make sure her rules were being followed. The thought terrified you to your core. To George, you said shakily, “But -- I love you.”

You’d known it since the day you met him, and even before that. You knew that he was the one you’d been waiting for. The overwhelming feeling of warmth you’d felt when he’d introduced himself with a lopsided grin all those long years ago in the middle of a Herbology lesson was like nothing you’d felt before. You had first met his gaze across the classroom, and he’d held it a little longer than he normally would have. You’d been in love ever since. And so had he.

It isn’t fair, you wanted to yell out. What authority did Umbridge have to decide who you’re meant to be with? Weren’t soulmates to be determined by fate, and not by the corrupt Wizarding government? You had a thought of hexing her right now, but her pompous laugh made you feel as though you turned to stone. By the look on McGonagall’s face from the other end of the hall, you were quite certain she felt like hexing Umbridge, too.

Who the bloody hell was she to think that she had a say, any say, over who you were allowed to marry?

George’s lip wobbled a bit as he breathed in deeply. “I love you, too.” His voice was hoarse and different and worrisome. “It’ll all be okay, darling, I promise.”

Somehow you knew that George didn’t fully believe his own words.

What were you supposed to do, coming from a Muggle family, when the whole lot of Weasleys were pure-bloods? What were you supposed to say to this vile woman to make her reconsider her choices? When your eyes met hers in a fit of fury, you squeezed George’s hand tighter, all while Umbridge threaded her brows together and stood up a little straighter.

What were you supposed to do if your soulmate wasn’t allowed to be your soulmate at all?

-- -

As you stealthily flicked your wrist, a dull light emanated from your wand, causing Professor Snape’s hair to stand up on command and turn a rather ugly shade of yellow.

You squealed; how you’d managed to pull it off was beyond you. Behind you, your boyfriend squeezed your shoulders and grabbed your hand before pulling you out of the Great Hall and around the bend. He was finding it very difficult to suppress his laughter, as evident by the red colour rising in his cheeks and the slight tears in his eyes. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”

You flipped your hair and grinned at him. “I know,” you said cheekily, earning yourself a playful jab to the ribs. You locked your arms around his neck. “I learned from the best.”

You adored the dimple that appeared on his cheek each and every time he smiled. You pushed his long hair out of his eyes. “The best, eh?”

“The best of the best,”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and lifted you into the air, your feet dangling just above the corridor floor. He spun you a bit until you claimed you were getting dizzy. “My girl is going to out prank me one day.. how’d I get so lucky? I reckon I’m the luckiest bloke there is.”

You giggled and played absentmindedly with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” George breathed, placing you back down and bringing a hand to the back of your neck. The cheekiness in his features almost immediately twisted into that of compassion, of admiration, of --

“I love you.”

If you hadn’t been so absolutely floored (even though you’d kind of been expecting it), you would’ve noticed how very quickly those three words had brought tears to your eyes. Except, you were too excited to notice such things. Nothing at all could’ve prepared you for those three words. You reckoned your smile was stretching from ear to ear now.

The three words you’d been waiting to hear for so long were playing in your head on repeat. You couldn’t wait another second before saying them very quickly back through a very excited squeal. “Iloveyoutoo!” He laughed and kissed you softly, his mouth moving very carefully against yours. You whispered against his lips in a calmer, more serious tone, “I love you, too.”

-- -

Your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was not going according to plan. Not only had Umbridge mechanically established relationships via blood status, but she also split all of the students up by blood status as well. So there were no longer Hogwarts houses. Each student were given new, generic Hogwarts robes and new common rooms. You shifted uncomfortably in a particularly painful armchair in what used to be the Slytherin common room. How convenient, you thought, that Umbridge had deemed the dungeons an appropriate spot for the new “Muggle-born Residencies”.

And George.

He was struggling to get used to the strange entrance of the previous Ravenclaw common room, now deemed the “Pure-blood Dormitories”. Umbridge had completely banned the selling of any and all Weasley products, even confiscating their trunks and blasting their items to smithereens. Everything George and Fred worked on for so long was just...gone, and you couldn’t even be there to comfort them.

The most interaction you were able to have with George were stolen glances across the Great Hall and in lessons. McGonagall didn’t have much say over the pairing off, but she did have a say in how lessons ran. She shut down Umbridge’s ludicrous “lesson by blood status” idea almost immediately.

George had sworn to you that it would be easy to sneak around, that he could jinx Umbridge or remove her memory or outsmart her any day. But bloody hell, it was proving to be difficult. This woman had certainly done her research. The Ministry had you all on a strict lockdown control.

Fleeting moments with George came less often than both of you would have liked. One recurring time Umbridge couldn’t stop you (because she wouldn’t dare step out onto the Quidditch pitch) were matches. The schedule had already been established, McGonagall had fought. It was the only time the “four houses” were able to reconvene during the school year. You waited patiently, nervously, restlessly outside of the Gryffindor changing rooms and yanked George rather violently behind the tent before pulling him onto a bone crushing embrace.

An exasperated breath left your lips. “I don’t know how much more of this I can handle.” you told him. It had only been a month -- surely it had been longer? Like five bloody years maybe?

“Me neither, love.” The feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist was exhilarating in a way that nothing else was. When he pulled away to look at you, he kept his hands gripped tightly on your hips, as if he were afraid you were going to slip through his fingers. Which, you thought, was pretty accurate. These fleeting moments were exactly that. Fleeting.

You expected to see the usual cheekiness glistening in his eyes, but he looked -- empty. Like the life had been sucked right out of him. Like he didn’t care about anything anymore. Like he hadn’t caught sleep in days.

You tugged hesitantly on his robes. “I -- I got paired off last week.”

You didn’t say this to hurt him; you said this to be truthful. You saw his jaw clench as he prepared himself for answers. “Who is it? I know him?”

You waved George off. “He’s just some guy.”

And then, amazingly, incredibly, George actually snorted. For a brief moment, you saw traces of happiness nearly lift him off of his feet. “Some guy?”

“Well I don’t bloody know!” you laughed too. It felt like discovering a completely new emotion, since despair seemed to be the only thing you were feeling these days. “We -- haven’t really spoken much. Just the bare minimum. He’s got a girl in Ravenclaw. Half-blood. So he’s dreading this just as much as us.”

George breathed a sigh of relief. “Same with mine.”

So he’d gotten paired off too. You felt a huge bout of nervousness tense your muscles, and you nodded. The question you were wanting to ask must’ve appeared blatantly in your eyes, because George took your hands in his and squeezed them. “You know that Hufflepuff? Lead singer in the frog choir?”

Your heart dropped about a thousand stories. Of course you knew her. She was stunning. And dating that Slytherin bloke, the one who was exceptionally good at Charms. It didn’t stop the nerves from bubbling up inside of you though. You bit your lip and stammered, “She -- she’s beautiful.”

George brought your hands to his lips and kissed them gently. He hated seeing you like this, you could tell, because there was a type of yearning in his eyes you’d never seen before. He shook his head and pushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “No, you’re beautiful.”

Just then, the very obnoxious foghorn-like sound emitted from the castle, signaling the end of Quidditch and that all students must return to their respective dormitories immediately. Gravity was pulling you both apart, but you both defied it, testing fate, holding onto one another just a moment longer.

George kissed you with an intensity you’d never known -- you didn’t exactly know when the next time you’d be able to be this close to him. It proved to be the most difficult thing you’d ever had to do to pull away. “Be careful, be safe -- I love you.”

“I love you too, George.”

You watched as he ran forward to meet Fred, who shot you a sympathetic gaze. You mechanically entered the group of Muggle-borns who were heading back to the dorms. Before vanishing toward the opposite end of the castle, George threw you one last inconspicuous glance and brought a hand gently to his heart.

-- -

“George, it’s not up to me, it’s not up to you,”

Grimmauld Place looked disturbingly non-Christmas like, despite Molly’s best efforts at decorating in her spare time between visits to the hospital to see Arthur. You’d managed, in a strange, winding way, to end up here. It proved to be very difficult though. Umbridge was now monitoring all floo-networks and the skies for flying, and it was becoming increasingly hard to apparate when your heart just wasn’t in it. But you’d made it -- somehow. You worshiped these few days here, unbeknownst to her.

You shifted uncomfortably underneath the blanket, unable to find a position on the couch that made you feel okay. Comfortable. Safe.

You glanced down at your scarred hand and ran your fingers along the words that were reflected on George’s as well.

I must not disobey the law.

The law. That’s what Umbridge thought this was. So when she caught George attempting to sneak down to the dungeons one night to see you, if only for a moment, she threw the both of you in separate four-hour long detentions, these six words now permanently engraved into your skin.

“I don’t care,” George breathed. “I don’t care about Umbridge, or these stupid rules, or the shop, or the fact that I’ve got this ridiculous phrase on my skin. I don’t care about any of it, I care about you.”

You bit your lip as the tears began to flow. You knew he didn’t mean that. Of course he cared. “I care about you too, but what are we supposed to do?”

“Let’s fight this!”

“We’ve tried! We’ve tried, George! Umbridge is so set in her ways, not even Dumbledore can shut this down! D’you think this is easy for me?” you cried. “D’you think it’s easy knowing that there’s a beautiful woman you’ve been paired with, or that there’s a man who I’m expected to spend my life with when all I’ve been doing for the better half of the last two and a half years is planning my life with you? It’s not bloody easy, George, it’s not, tell me how this is fair, tell me!” You weren’t sure when you’d started pounding on his chest, but your rattled cries echoed throughout the empty living room space. George pulled you into his chest, gripping the back of your neck tightly in his hands as he continually pressed kisses into your hair. Your sobs turned hoarse and raspy; you were crying fully now, desperate moans evaporating into the tense air above you.

You hated hearing him cry, so when he opened his mouth to speak and his words were jumbled and emotional, you squeezed your eyes shut tight, hoping that you’d open them to something other than this nightmare. “I don’t -- I don’t want to give up on us, love.”

“And you think I do?”

“No, no, of course not!” he cried, letting his emotions get the better of him. He sucked in a breath as you dabbed gently at your tears, even though fresh ones fell just as quickly as the old ones vanished. How could this be the plan for you two? How could this be your fate, when you were so in love with one another? He shook his head. “No, I’m not done. I’m not done fighting for this. Bloody hell, I don’t even care if I’ve got to use the cruciatus curse on her. I’ll give up the shop, I’ll do anything. I don’t care about anyone else --”

“George, please, you can’t give up the shop, I won’t let you --”

“Come hell or high water, I’m fighting for you,” in a moment of fury, he grabbed and cradled your head in his hands before pressing a forceful kiss to your lips. It didn’t stop you from crying. When you both parted, you peered up at him and noticed tears near the edges of his eyes. “I’m not giving up on us. I love you.”

You gently brought a hand to his cheek and caressed his skin. You choked out, “I love you, too.”

Sometime later on, after you’d both drifted off, you woke to the sound of slight shuffling around the room. Wrapped around you in a tight embrace, George was fast asleep, his breathing now steady and slow. You noticed Molly walk over to you both and cover you with an extra blanket, her wedding ring dazzling brightly in the moonlight flooding the room.

She must’ve noticed your puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks, because she reached out and ran a gentle hand through your hair. Tears had risen in your eyes immediately at her touch, as well as surprise. You’d expected a scolding for falling asleep together, but instead she just whispered, “Fate will win in the end.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and let the tears fall, but managed to nod at her and squeeze her hand. She gently caressed your cheek and placed a kiss to your head and to George’s before crossing the room and quietly closing the door.

George stirred a bit when you interlaced your fingers with his. You pressed your lips softly to the top of his hand before letting more tears fall and adjusting within his embrace, the one you came to know so well, and found yourself craving more than oxygen itself.

-- -

“They love you. I promise. They always have, haven’t they?” The fire reflecting in his eyes resembled how the fire in your bones felt. Wild. With reckless abandon.

“But this is different!” you squealed, pushing gently away from him so he couldn’t tickle you. “Before I was just good mates with all of you. Now I’m -- your girlfriend.”

George threaded his brows together in confusion. “Wait, you are? Since when?”

He earned himself a playful jab to the ribs for that one. Outside the Burrow, the snow was falling soundlessly. It had been three days since George had kissed you under the mistletoe, two days since you made it official, one day since he re-introduced you to his family as his girlfriend. It was the perfect Christmas.

“I’m just.. worried, is all. They’re getting to know me in a different way, you know?”

“Don’t worry, love,” he reassured you, placing a gentle kiss to your hairline. “Fred’s mad for you, always has been -- waiting ages for us to get together, hasn’t he? Ginny and Ron adore you.. I can’t wait for you to meet Bill and Charlie finally. Er -- can’t make any promises about Percy, though. No matter -- he’s a foul little git, anyway.”

You sniggered a bit and felt your breath catch in your throat when George began to trace small circles on your knee. You swallowed. “And your mum and dad?”

His smile only deepened. “Well they love you, don’t they? Mum’s always called you part of the family already. And my dad, well -- you know about my dad.”

You’d never felt the Muggle part of you was that exciting, but somehow Arthur Weasley’s enthusiasm for it made you feel like it was such a precious part of you, that you were all the better for it.

George continued, “Now that you’ll be spending more time here, I reckon he’ll keep you occupied in conversation for hours. Making you tell him everything about Muggles. Apologies in advance.” George laughed softly for a moment and waved his wand to bring you both cups of tea to settle in for the evening. “Besides, he’ll go absolutely mad when he meets your parents. He’s always hoped one of us would have Muggle in-laws.”

You raised an eyebrow in surprise and teased him. “In-laws? Already have us married, do you?”

When you giggled playfully, George didn’t, but instead squeezed your hand a few times and let his sincerity speak for itself through his facial features. His soft eyes, yearning and hungry and wildly in love. His mouth in a lazy grin. His chest rising and falling slowly, as if being able to look at you had finally regulated his breathing. Like you were the oxygen that was finally refilling his lungs.

You stammered, breathless. “Y-you do think about that, don’t you?”

He shrugged, as if to play off the whole thing. “Haven’t scared you off, have I?”

You brought a hand to the back of his neck and laced your fingers through his bright red hair. You smiled. “Of course not.”

“Good,” he replied cheerily, as if the idea of you two getting married was obvious. “Because I’ve known it for years, you and I. Fred reckons I may have willed this into existence,” He chuckled to himself more so than to you. You didn’t think your heart could pound any faster than it had the other day when he’d kissed you for the first time. You were wildly wrong. He pressed his lips to the back of your hand. “You were the one I was meant to find.”

-- -

December 1997

The cobblestone on Diagon Alley was slick with fresh rain. The lights on either side of the street flickered ominously. But there it was, as bright and brilliant as ever, colours in the dismal gray, light in the impending darkness.

“I’m not leaving! I’m giving up the shop and I’m staying here at school, alright? I’m staying with you.”

“No, George, you can’t! You can’t give that up for me. I won’t let you. You’ve worked far too hard for this.”

“I’m not leaving you here! Not with her! She’s torturing students left and right --”

“And I will be okay,” you replied with tears in your eyes. You squeezed his hands tight and his chest was heavy with sobs. “Your plans are bigger than this, and they’re bigger than me.”

It had been almost two years since he’d left on a broomstick, firework dragons swimming through the castle and the sky as he and his brother left their final mark on the Hogwarts grounds.

Almost two years since Umbridge had been replaced by Dumbledore, and the Hogwarts you knew and loved went back to some type of normal, the entire idea of blood status pairs driven into the ground with a stake.

But it had also been almost two years since Muggle-borns were forced into hiding for fear of the impending war.

Two years since you’d seen him. Heard his voice. Felt his touch.

He was crying fully now. “This -- this can’t be it for us.”

Your lip wobbled hearing those heart wrenching words. He’d always been the stronger of you two, comforting you when you cried -- this felt strangely unfamiliar. You didn’t quite fancy being the strong one, but he needed you. “It’s not. It’s not, okay? This is not the end. I promise. But you deserve this, George. You deserve the world. And one day, when this is all over, if I’m still lucky enough -- I’ll find you again. Come hell or high water. You need to follow your dream, okay?”

It wasn’t a breakup, but it sure felt like one.

He pressed his forehead to yours and an involuntary, hoarse cry escaped his lips. “But you’re my dream.”

“George, please --” you stopped yourself. You didn’t finish the words that were rising to your lips. Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. You cupped his chin in your hands and peered up at him, your vision blurry. But you could still see his lips were set in a thin, firm line, his jaw was clenched tightly. He was going to leave.

You looked down at the red thread tied loosely around your pinky finger. You followed it with your eyes as it wrapped around street lamps, signs and other shops, before ending up exactly where you’d always known it would when it had first appeared on your finger after you’d graduated school.

93 Diagon Alley.

“My heart will always belong to you, love.”

As you hurried down the street, following your little thread, and the shop came into better view, you could feel the sheer intensity of the anticipation bubbling up inside you.

You pointed your wand ahead, illuminating the dark street and readying yourself for any dementors or Death Eaters that were lurking close by.

But before you reached the doors, someone ran into the middle of the street and stopped short. You lifted your wand higher, ready to hex, until you realized who it was.

George was standing in the middle of the cobblestone, hair in disarray, in his sweater his mum had knitted him every single year. He’d always told you how comforting it felt to wear. You couldn’t help the slight laugh that escaped you, for the first time you’d seen him in two years he so very similarly resembled that young, cheeky boy you’d teased your first Christmas at Hogwarts for the socks he’d knitted on his own to match the gift from his mother.

He said your name in a whisper, but in your ears it sounded like a booming shout -- like all the world could hear it, if they were listening.

And you noticed your little thread, stretching along the street, ending in a tiny knot on his own hand.

You wanted to tell him that you were here to find him, and that you’d been able to escape the hiding you were under, due to being a Muggle-born. You wanted to tell him that you hadn’t once stopped thinking about him since you’d last seen him all those years ago and that when you’d finally seen that thread, you were convinced it led here -- you’d just never been able to act on it. You wanted to tell him that you prayed for him every single night.

But all that escaped your mouth was another nervous laugh before you were running and slipping along the street before winding up in a bone crushing embrace you were bound to feel the effects of tomorrow.

He wanted to tell you that he’d never met anyone as selfless as you, how equally excited and heartbroken he was when you’d told him to leave and charge forward. He wanted to tell you that he’d been spending every single day waiting for news, any news at all that Muggle-borns were no longer in hiding. He wanted to tell you that he’d had enough, and he was coming to find you just as he stumbled before you on this little street. He wanted to tell you that he’d never once stopped loving you.

But instead all he could do was kiss you fiercely and brush the tears away that were escaping your eyes, because that kiss was telling you both everything you needed to know -- all of those unspoken words, all of those bottled up feelings, all of the unwavering love you’d carried in your hearts for one another throughout all of the moments that kept you apart.

And then he was kneeling before you, raindrops dripping down from his hair and onto his face and neck, and he was saying the things you’d always dreamt of him saying, and he was opening a box with a ring inside that took your breath away, just as his first kiss had.

A familiar ring.

Molly’s ring.

Your breath hitched at the sight of it, and her words from that Christmas echoed in your mind.

Fate will win in the end.

When George placed it on your finger, you both noticed through blurry vision that the thread that had been attached to you both had disappeared into thin air.

You’d found one another again, despite it all, despite the tyrants and the war and the rules that were holding both of you hostage.

Because this was the fate you were both destined for. This was the moment. Husband and wife, together or apart.

Fate had won in the end.

Just like Molly had told you.

The fire crackled pleasantly alongside the faint sound of Christmas music. You reached out and traced a finger over his jawline. His words made you feel simultaneously cozy and incredibly nervous. “The one you were meant to find, huh?”

George laughed, probably because of how corny that had sounded. But he didn’t care -- he knew it was true. He’d known it since the day he met you, that fate had brought you together. He breathed in deeply and squeezed your knee. “Yeah, darling, I’ve already planned my whole life with you.”

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