#i spent hardly any time on that art because i was laughing too hard when i drew it

[pekoeboo]

a silly thing based on some Hitman shenanigans from a while back. 47 wanted to go inside the Party House™ but he wasn't allowed :c

[sebastianswallows]

Dangerous and Delightful — Chapter 29 — Upheaval

— PAIRING: Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Sebastian is a purveyor of forbidden artefacts, a dark arts researcher, and a curse-breaker for hire. Ominis, desperate to save him from himself, hires Reader in secret to persuade him, by any means necessary, to leave his illegal activities behind.

— WARNINGS: None

— WORDCOUNT: 2.2k

— TAGLIST: @bloofinntoona @sarcasticpluviophile @estrotica

Sebastian said nothing else after that night about their soon-to-be escape from the approaching Aurors, but she felt it in the air that there was a rush to things. He wore the same suit for two days in a row, the others already packed, and he and Ominis spent time alone for hours. Even Mrs. Gaunt had less of the confidence and calm that seemed her second nature, and there was a nervousness to her that hadn’t been there when they first arrived.

She only learned what Sebastian had in mind on the evening of the next day. And he told it to her because he needed her to act.

“Could you pack everything by tomorrow morning?”

“I haven’t much to start with… Of course.”

“Wonderful.”

“Especially if I had my wand back.”

Sebastian didn’t sigh, nor roll his eyes at her. He smiled slightly and looked at her from the corner of his eyes, apparently considering it.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said.

“Why then?”

“It will all make sense later.”

“Why can’t it make sense now?” she huffed.

He bit his lip, drowned in internal conflict. She could almost believe he wanted to tell her, but when he kept her in the dark like that it was hard to sympathise.

She went to pack anyway, without another word, and if Sebastian felt the chill from her, good, she wanted him to.

Their last dinner with the Gaunts was awkward, although Ominis was oddly cheerful. He spent all evening regaling them with tales of his and Sebastian’s adventures at Hogwarts, including a not-so-credible fight against the giant squid.

“His hair was blue for days,” Ominis laughed.

“No it wasn’t,” he grumbled.

“Sebastian, the whole Common Room stank of ink and seaweed.”

Mrs. Gaunt didn’t seem to doubt it, barely containing her giggles as she looked over at Sebastian, who tried to hide his blush, but his smile too.

It was a sorry thing to witness… The approaching departure, and seeing him parted from his friends. She understood. She hardly had any back in Upper Flagley, aside from a neighbour or two, and not knowing when she’d see them again was like a shard of ice within her heart. She focused on finishing her meal and tried hard not to blame Sebastian for that. She was still yet to learn of his full plans.

When they were done with dinner and dessert and the elves started cleaning up the dinner table, she was the first to get up and eager to approach Sebastian and inquire about just those plans, but before she could do so Ominis intercepted.

“Me?” she said, thinking she’d heard mistakenly at first.

“If you could,” Ominis smiled. “It will only take a moment, I promise.”

She spared a quick glance at Sebastian, whose back was turned before she could decipher if he knew something about it, as she followed Ominis into the study on the ground floor.

She’d been in there before. And as all the rooms Ominis spent a lot of time in, it was kept quite dark. Darker than he realised, but she didn’t have the heart to complain about it. But even stained by shadows as it was, there were such soft and lively signs of browns and greens all over, soft cushions and well-worn books abounding in an otherwise prim and well-organised space. She followed Ominis toward the desk and stopped before it, too nervous to sit down.

“I suppose I shouldn’t have kept this until the last moment,” he said with a contrite little smile. “But I didn’t wish to interrupt any… anything Sebastian had planned for the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned. “Kept what? And what did Sebastian —”

“He hasn’t told you?”

“He’s only told me to pack.”

“Oh… Only that?”

“And… and that he intended things to be different soon. In terms of his… career. But I’m not sure what he meant.”

Ominis was stuck between a smile and a frown. She hugged herself as she waited for him to decide how to continue, seeming both amused and upset at his best friend.

“You know more than I do about what’s going on in his mind,” she said. “And I don’t like it.”

“I suppose he can’t help it. He’s always confided in me. I suppose he expects me to talk him out of his worst ideas.”

“And have you?”

“Not often in recent years,” he sighed. “But there are no bad ideas this time. At least it doesn’t seem so.”

She looked cautiously at Ominis, something that he seemed to sense. His smile broadened and he sat behind his desk, but only briefly. She heard a cabinet door open.

“I’ve never thanked you properly, by the way,” he said. “For being, truly, the one to talk him out of his very worst idea, this time.”

“Did I?” she chuckled. “So far, he’s only promised to put his ‘toys’ away. I don’t know how intent he is on it.”

“Oh, don’t sound too discouraged,” he smiled. “For what it’s worth, I have faith that this time it is quite permanent.”

He took something out, then stood up and walked around to where she was. In his arms was a large box, something that seemed to fit a necklace or something larger, but it was unlike any box she was familiar with. It looked more like a casket.

“And, as we agreed,” said Ominis as he reached her, “your compensation.”

She looked from the box in his hands up to him, unsure if she should take it. As far as she knew, she had failed completely with Sebastian, so where was Ominis taking these signs of success from?

“Has he promised something?” she asked cautiously. “Because I’m not sure you can trust it…”

“Not to worry, this is for you, not for him. Should he go back on his word —”

“There’s hardly anything to go back on. He hasn’t said anything.”

“He will.”

“But —”

“Please,” he said, extending the small casket to her once more, “take it. You’ve deserved it, and while you may not know it yet, you’ll need its contents soon.”

“That only worries me…”

“Try not to,” he smiled.

After a few more moments of doubt, she took the box from him. It felt heavy, its contents slightly wavering inside. She dared not even open it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I… I hope everything you say is true.”

Ominis laughed. “I only hope that it will bring you joy. You’ve certainly earned it.”

She wasn’t sure how to take that… Was he referring to the payment, or something else?

She was to find out later in the evening, when she retreated to her room.

The box, as she suspected, was filled with Galleons. It took only a brief peak beneath the lid to tell it was a considerable sum. Was that really what he’d offered her all those months ago? This seemed like… far too much.

She closed it back sharply when she heard somebody knock, and hid the box beneath the bed just before Sebastian stepped in.

“May I?”

“You already have.”

“I need to speak to you,” he said with a tense smile, closing the door behind him.

“Yes you do,” she sighed, sitting sideways on the bed still in her evening clothes, her arms crossed over her chest. “Why are you being so mysterious? You and Ominis both?”

“He’s said something?” he winced.

“Not more than you.”

Sebastian stepped through, walking quite cautiously and looked much like a chastised child. He couldn’t seem to find a place to sit or stand within the room, looking for a place for himself just as he looked for the right words to say.

“Well, you can probably guess we’re going somewhere tomorrow.”

“Obviously.”

“And that I told Ominis… what you told me.”

“Yes. But what I want to know is what does he know that I don’t?”

Sebastian looked up at her, his hands deep in his pockets. His gaze tried to read her face, beyond the anger and frustration that was there. She realised with trepidation that he was trying to find out how she would react to what he would say next.

“We’re not going home, are we?” she asked quietly.

“It depends on what you mean by ‘home.’”

“Not my home.”

“Well, yes. And no,” he said with a slight smile.

“Sebastian,” she growled, “if you don’t start —”

“I’d like to take you to Italy.”

He got it out almost like pulling a thorn from his skin, like something to get over quickly. His eyes were steady, but his whole body tense, ready for her to attack him in some way.

She was too shocked to do so.

“I’m not sure I caught that.”

“Italy,” he breathed out. “You, and me.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Tomorrow?! Go half-way across the continent? Why?! For how long? Where will we stay?”

“Let me worry about that,” he said, walking to her and kneeling by the bed.

“I don’t even speak Italian. Do you?”

“Of course I do.”

She looked at him steadily.

“Well, a bit… maybe.”

“Is this your brilliant plan? This is the best solution you’ve come up with?”

“The Aurors have no say over what happens outside of Britain’s borders,” said Sebastian, raising himself to sit on the side of her bed, just out of arm’s reach. “They can’t track us, can’t touch us…”

“But why… why should I stay with you rather than go back?” she asked with a haughty tilt of her head.

He seemed a little hurt, but pulled it back, choosing instead to smile, and hold her gaze, and sit in silence with her for a moment.

“I can’t stand to be parted from you,” said Sebastian quietly. “And I don’t think you can either. In fact, I… I never wish to be away from you again.”

She didn’t want him to be right. It would have felt like weakness for her happiness to depend on someone else’s presence, and she couldn’t imagine how Sebastian had said it without dying right there of shame. Yet he seemed a bit calmer now, even happy, to have put into words what he intimately felt.

He moved closer to her on the bed, slowly, as if approaching a wild cat, and reached a hand out to brush his fingers over her bent knee. Even through the thick folds of her dress, she felt a shiver go up her spine.

“And I… I’m wondering if you would,” he whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Not be parted from me. Ever again.”

She needed to only look into his eyes to get his meaning, and the moment felt surreal. “You don’t mean… what I think you mean.”

“I want you to marry me,” he said. “I want you to marry me. I want you to want it, in fact, even more than I want for it to happen, which, oh Merlin, sounds so stupid, please ignore I said that, because I do want it to happen. In fact, that’s… that’s the only thing I want.”

He was blushing again, but not as he had at the table. His gaze could barely hold hers anymore, and his words were all afumble, as if it was now or never before she threw him out…

But she didn’t move, and the more she considered telling him to leave, the harder it became. She looked down at where he touched her, slow and constant, like a good luck charm… Sebastian’s presence was comforting, and she hated to admit it. Perhaps he’d tamed her, like a stray that had been out on the streets too long accustomed to caring for itself. And in forcing her to care for him and to accept his caring, he’d pushed and pulled her down a path from which the view of all others disappeared.

“Don’t say anything, if you don’t want to,” he spoke after a while. “Just… Could I just ask to kiss you?”

“You can ask.”

“And may I?”

She looked up at him again, so soft and vulnerable and hers. “Maybe.”

He grinned brightly and leaned in, arms braced against the bed beside her. She stayed still and challenged him, and waited there for his full lips to fall over her own.

He was gentle, and slow, and caressed her mouth like a still water he didn’t dare disturb, but in his own sly way he drank her in, and her eyes closed in pleasure. His breath fanned hotly on her cheek while hers stayed suspended in her chest a moment, and when she could no longer take it she allowed her lips to move, and kiss him back.

Sebastian smiled as he parted from her, happy and sated and looking hopeful for the first time in weeks.

“I haven’t said yes,” she said.

“Alright. That’s alright.”

“And I still want my wand back.”

“You shall have it.”

“And if I don’t like Italy, I’m leaving.”

“I understand.”

He was suspiciously accommodating, and looked at her with a bright and candleflame warm gaze as if all his cares had melted. At least one of them seemed calm about the absolute upheaval of their lives that was to come.

“That gift from Ominis,” she said, speaking mostly to herself. “That wasn’t just payment, was it?”

“I… I don’t know,” said Sebastian in a breathy giggle.

“It’s a… a wedding present?”

“Seems appropriate, don’t you think?”

[pantswarrior]

Hii,

I read Fighting Gravity on ao3 earlier this year and I wanted to tell you I loved it! I'm one of those peripheral members of fandoms who haven't read or watched any of the canon stuff, but are too obsessed with the fanworks to stop. It makes me wonder about stories like yours - is some point in the larger canon where something similar happens, or do you just come up with the idea for an unhoused Spock on your own?

I'm sending my ask to thank your for your story, but I also wanted to ask if you were alright with people printing and binding personal copies (ie. not for profit) of the fic for themselves.

I've been hand binding sketchbooks on and off for a little while, and I saw a tiktok of someone's self-bound versions of their favourite fics and thought that trying my hand at fic binding would be a fun project for this summer.

I just wanted to ask bc I heard some authors aren't okay with personal prints, so just let me know please; I'll always love the story regardless.

Aw, thank you so much! I'm sorry it took so long for me to reply - my laptop completely died several months back and the only one I could get online with is 11 years old, freezes up upon trying to load Tumblr, and is physically falling apart. -_- So I have been away from Tumblr all this time and did not see this until I got a new laptop tonight and could load the site again, I apologize! First of all - I consider it a great honor when anyone thinks enough of my fanstuff to want to do ANYTHING with it. =) I mean, I'm just out here being a nerd, writing fic about characters that are not mine. I can hardly be possessive about them. ;) So while I suppose it's rather late for a summer project, if for some reason the inclination strikes you in the future, feel free! It sounds like a beautiful project and I'm honestly flattered that you would think my story worthy. =) As for the inspiration behind that particular story... there is a rather silly story behind it. (tl;dr, possibly...) My partner-at-the-time and I were both really into the new Star Trek movie when it came out in 2009 - and this was not long after both of us were fixated on Ace Attorney fandom, which had recently had a new game released. Before the game was released, there was some character art showing an existing character looking scruffy, and the Ace Attorney fandom decided he must have fallen on hard times. There were multiple fanfics written about the guy he's usually shipped with finding him unhoused and taking him in and helping him get back on his feet. It became sort of a fandom injoke, "Miles adopts a homeless Phoenix". Not long after the first reboot Star Trek movie came out, the ONTD Star Trek community over at LiveJournal (good times!) dug up some screen test pics of Zachary Quinto wearing the Spock ears... but with a scruffy unshaven look and longer hair. So I showed them to my partner, who reacted with six little words:

"So... Jim adopts a homeless Vulcan?" I laughed because that was ridiculous and impossible given how some things work in the Star Trek canon. ...And then I started thinking about it, and how maybe it wasn't impossible, how someone *could* possibly wind up in such a situation in the Star Trek universe, and stopped laughing. ...And then spent the next several months of my life having this offhand joking comment turn into yet another exploration of one of my favorite themes: predestination vs. free will. OOPS. My partner, of course, was laughing their head off incredulously the whole time as I sent them drafts of the next chapter to read over and repeatedly reminded them that this was ALL THEIR FAULT. ;) So that is the...origin story... of that fic. Apologies for the length of this (and again, the lateness of the reply) - though to be honest it's so absurd it's fun to share it again. :D

[lostelfwriting]

Chapter XIII – I finally stopped holding my breath

[Read on AO3]

Teleute was right. Taking time off helps him regain some energy and recover a bit. Actually, he feels so much better that he gets tempted into looking up cases of people who were cured of Hanahaki without getting the love of the one they fell for. There are no known cases like that except for, in the modern age, people who had the literal root of the issue removed surgically.

He will die. But it will not be as soon as he has feared. He is still in the middle stage – he can still do most things and enjoy his work. The plant in his lungs has grown enough to drop leaves, not just petals, but. he. is. not. dead.

Dream used to have more hobbies than just drawing. Traveling and having pen pals is not feasible now, unless he makes peace with modern technology and finds an online friend instead of the good, old, plain paper pen pal. But he can pick up oil painting again. He decides that he will paint at least twenty paintings before he can’t anymore, and he goes to an art supplies store. He leaves with a dozen new brushes, a new set of paints of his favourite brand, and forty different canvases ordered to his doorstep – he can’t ask Jessamy to carry all that. And yes, he asked his new friend to come along. Usually, Teleute would be giving him a lift, but the first painting he is planning is meant to be a gift for her, a surprise.

Dream had a great plan. Although a little vain, a self-portrait as a gift didn’t feel selfish. His sister cared about him. She would like to have something to remember him by.

But the plan goes sour, like Dream’s life is wont to do.

+*+*+

He is in the zone when he is painting. It brings back nice memories from his childhood. Art classes, inspiration, crushes, traveling and exploring, being happy. He plays loud music in his flat and paints with vigour. It should make the painting messy but instead it only makes it look more alive any time he makes the paint splatter across the canvas.

He is barefoot on the protective tarp he’s spread on the floor to save it from the paint. Somehow, he’s managed to avoid the mess for now, so his feet remain clean. His black jeans and tank top are not so lucky, but he hardly minds the little splatters of yellow, white, orange…

The portrait is great. He’s spent an entire day staring into a mirror and tracing his own face, and then another day laying down the base colours, but now it’s time to finish it. Depth, details, a little light in his eye. His black hair is hard to get right but he is satisfied with the result. Night is approaching, and only a few final touches are left to be done, and then—

He sees it.

Them. The flowers. Taking up a good chunk of his painting are the flowers that he’s ordered a long time ago – poppies, bluebell, daffodil, lily-of-the-valley, crocus, fern, pansy, and rosemary. And roses. The stupid orange roses are there too!

Dream didn’t mean to paint flowers. He wanted to do a self-portrait for his sister. So she can remember him. Because he is dying. He is dying of a disease that makes him paint flowers when he doesn’t focus. Isn’t that ridiculous?! Isn’t it hysterical?!

But Dream isn’t laughing. His jaw is clenched as he glares at what are effectively three days of work ruined.

He meant to be nice. He meant to do something good. He loves his sister, and she loves him. Hob was wrong about him, and this stupid disease is wrong, and—

No! he. won’t. cry! He won’t! He’s made peace with his fate a long time ago. Crying now would be stupid and would achieve nothing. He’s fine!

Dream stares at the painting for a little while longer before he picks it up. He means to put it away and start again but… The frustration, the barely contained anger, the injustice, it all boils in him and he screams. He throws the painting on the floor and pushes the easel away roughly, watching it topple over with minor satisfaction.

It is not enough. Dream is angry. Dream is hurting! He kicks over his supplies, picks up a couch cushion and slams it on the floor as hard as he can, gets a coughing fit as a light cloud of dust hits him, and he coughs out petals that only add to the mess and remind him why he is angry.

He is dying!

He’s been pretending that he is fine for so long, trying so hard not to be selfish, but he. is. dying!

He was on the right path! He rages as he starts pushing books off the shelves. He had his own studio, a career, a reputation. He is young and he was healthy. It’s not fair that he is dying, and it’s dumb that he’s ever pretended that he is okay! He’s not okay!

Leaving his living room an absolute havoc, Dream collapses on the floor, resting his head in his hands as he sobs for the first time in so long. He’s needed it. Because he is leaving everything that he’s created behind and he doesn’t want to.

[ART]

He doesn’t want to die. He is scared.

+*+*+*+*+

The biggest thank you to @five-and-dimes for the art!

Bury Me with a Rose, We Both Have Thorns (Prologue)

Rating: Explicit

AO3 Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Death & Dream, Dream & Hob, Dream/Hob Gadling

Characters: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Death of the Endless, Hob Gadling, Jessamy, Matthew, Corinthian, Lucienne

Additional Tags: NO Major Character Death, Hanahaki Disease, Terminal Illnesses, Thoughts about death and dying, Decaying Health, Refusing Treatment, Strong Language, Unrequited Love, Enemies to ?, Past Minor Characters Death(s), Protective Death of the Endless, Doctor Human!Death of the Endless, Alternate Universe - Human, Tattoo Artist Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Flower Shop Owner Hob Gadling, Blood, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word count: 32k

I'm posting the whole work here on the 1st of March, but I strongly reccommend you read it on AO3, where I will be posting one chapter per day. Either way, click Read More or go to AO3 to read the Prologue!

Written for the event @the-centennial-husbands-bigbang. With beautiful art by @five-and-dimes!

It is a slow day at the studio, so while he is waiting for his next appointment, Dream is – like he does almost all of his free time – sketching new tattoo designs to add to his portfolio and listening to music loud enough to completely shut out his own thoughts. He is sketching a snake, having no doubt that it will catch someone’s eye. There is always someone who wants a tattoo of a snake. He pauses to look at his progress and ends up snorting in disbelief.

The drawing is truly a snake, but the reptile is weaving among the stems of flowers instead of a dead branch like Dream had intended. And they are ugly flowers at that. He is pretty sure that he gave a pot of those flowers to his secondary school teacher, who always called him Murphy, even though he hated that nickname. He can’t resist snapping a picture of the flowers with his phone and trying to look up what they are, but once he finds the name – cyclamen – he refuses to look up their meaning. It would surely be something stupid, like forbidden love, or maybe hopelessness.

Even the snake’s scales seem to actually be made of flower petals, and Dream rolls his eyes as he flips the page of his sketchbook. The downside to trying to tune his mind out is that he doesn’t notice when his subconsciousness begins to interfere with his process, and it has led to many flowery paintings in the past months. With a sigh, he starts copying the usable parts of the design onto another page until an insistent thought makes him pause mid-movement.

Just a few weeks ago, he would have been furious if this had happened. He used to tear those ruined sketches to pieces and then go outside into the late winter chill and glare at every passing person who dared to look his way. He wished they all felt as bad as he did, and most of all, his neighbour with his shop opposite Dream’s studio, with its bright, flowery logo.

Today’s drawing incident feels like just a small inconvenience. He feels zero anger, though he might still opt to destroy the sketch later, just for the miniscule satisfaction that the action will bring him. Or maybe he will keep it. Pin it to the wall next to his bed and look at it every night. He will look at the ugly flowers and realise with wry amusement and aching hollowness that he has finally accepted his fate.

He, Morpheus Endeles, is going to die.

He thinks about it and waits for anger or grief to appear, but they don’t. Good. He was getting sick of the self-pity. It has been months since he noticed the first symptom – the occasional cough – as something seemed to tickle his throat, easily blamed on a bit of dust. And then, a bit later, when he lay awake late at night and everything around him was quiet, he heard the soft rustle of leaves as he breathed. He didn’t need a doctor to tell him that he had the Hanahaki Disease. He tears the ruined sketch out and shreds it into tiny pieces, enjoying the bit of satisfaction that it brings him. Maybe he is still harbouring some badly suppressed anger. He doesn’t need a fortune teller to tell him that he has no chance of getting affection from the person he hopelessly loves. Because it is his neighbour, the owner of The White Rose, Robert Gadling, a straight man who rightfully dislikes Dream.

+*+*+*+*+

Cyclamen: resignation and good-bye

[tsukishumai]

pairing: Bokuto Kotaro x gn!reader

summary: whoever said being adult was fun obviously never had bills to pay. so when Akaashi offers up a way to earn cash fast, you jump at the opportunity. except, you never thought you’d find yourself modeling in your underwear... least of all with Bokuto Kotaro

wc; 3k+

tags; fluff, humor, college au, mentions of very slight nudity

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

If anyone else other than Akaashi offered you this position, you would probably punch them right in the face.

Maybe he considers this payback for all the times he’s had to listen to you whine about your problems during your shared shifts at the cafe, or maybe this truly was his own sadistic way of attempting to provide support.

“Okay, so I know a way you can make easy money,” he started, and already those words should have sent alarm bells ringing in your head, but this was Akaashi. You’ve only really known him for a short time, but already you knew he wouldn’t lead you astray.

But really, the electronic shop five blocks from campus told you it would cost 55000 yen to repair your laptop monitor, so you weren’t exactly in a position to be picky. 

You had also been complaining to him for the past forty minutes -- about the broken laptop, the leaking faucet in your apartment, the textbook that cost you more than your groceries for the past month, the two hours of sleep you got last night, and your paychecks that were all but depleted once the bills were paid. He remained tightlipped throughout your whole tirade, so you suppose the least you could do was hear him out. 

“You’re not trying to sell my kidneys, right…” You mumble sarcastically, but you tilt your head to him anyway to show you were listening.

“No, sadly, it’s not quite the season for kidneys yet,” Akaashi delivers in a flat tone, “So you’re just going to have to deal with modeling.”

“Modeling?” Your reaction was harsh and loud, and you flinched away from the piercing glares of cafe regulars trying to study in peace. 

Akaashi smirks as he wipes down the steamer before replying, “Don’t worry, it’s not the kind of modeling you’re thinking.”

Your mouth dropped, and you raised an eyebrow as you crossed your arms, scoffing at Akaashi incredulously. 

“Are you trying to send me to a nudie shoot?!” you whisper in almost-mock offense, but now a part of you was a little worried that your favorite coworker was a secret pervert.

To your utter relief, Akaashi just laughs. “God, no. Well, I guess, kind of?”

At this point, your head was beginning to spin. “What do you mean kind of? Just spit it out already, Akaashi.”

Akaashi finally finishes cleaning off the coffee machine just as you finished replenishing the pastry displays, and in an unusual lull in customers, he’s able to lean against the bar and give you his undivided attention.

“My art professor pays the models for her figure drawing class a pretty decent amount of money, I think,” Akaashi tells you, and your eyes begin to sparkle. “She mentioned a couple of slots being open.”

“Really?” your interest was immediately piqued, “How much money?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Enough to strike at least one problem off your list, probably.”

That was all you needed to hear. Akaashi had given you his professor’s contact information, and you sent her an email the second you had clocked out of your shift. 

Professor Nobuta was a kind woman who emailed you back with such haste, you could feel her desperation matching yours. She was candid during the entirety of your exchange, saying that her usual model had dropped out last minute and there was a spot in her class tomorrow that she needed to fill as soon as possible. Lucky for both of you, you were actually available, and details were exchanged swiftly. 

As you read over the requirements, your eyes roved over two words in a section of the email that made your eyes bulge out of your head. 

Semi Nude. 

You blinked once. Then twice. 

You had already formulated a kind rejection in your mind, ready to type your response when another section caught your eye. You inwardly groaned, dropping your head into your hands. 

She was offering you almost as much as two shifts at the cafe. 

That, alone, was enough to convince you, but the look of relief on Professor Nobuta’s face when you walked through the doors of her classroom was confirmation you made the right decision.

The seats around the classroom were nearly all filled, some students preparing their materials across their desks, and others sitting back and scrolling through their phones. The whirring of the A/C had filled the room with white noise, and you take notice of the two empty stools in the middle of the room.

“Thank you so much for signing up, L/N-san,” Professor Nobuta bowed profusely, and she gestured to a table for you to leave your things. “We’re still waiting on the other model, so take your time, and have a seat on the stool when you’re ready.”

You nodded in acknowledgement, and Professor Nobuta makes her way back to her desk. You briefly wonder if she was going to point you in the direction of a changing room, but realized the redundancy when everyone in the room was meant to stare at your half naked body anyway. 

You begrudgingly peeled off your clothes, folding them neatly before placing them in a pile on the table. Your footsteps made hardly any noise as you walked across the room, desperately trying hard to act nonchalant. 

Just as you took a seat in one of the empty stools, you heard someone pull the door open and loudly clamber inside.

“Ahh, welcome back, Bokuto-san!”

Your eyes widened at the name the professer had just yelled across the room. You brace yourself as you quickly whip your head around, and standing by the door sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck was Bokuto Kotaro. 

Student Athlete, Volleyball Star, Most Wanted Bachelor Bokuto Kotaro smiled brightly as he skipped to the table your items were placed, apologizing profusely for being late. All eyes followed him like moths, and Bokuto was the bright flame. Everyone knew him, and you often saw him walking across the quad, always greeting at least twenty people on the way. 

You could hardly hear what Professor Nobuta was saying to him, and you were now unabashedly staring as Bokuto began to strip out of his clothes. 

Bokuto was built like a marble statue -- hard lines that traveled across his chest and traced his abs must have been painstakingly carved with the utmost care by a masterful artist, and every movement he made created new shapes along his muscled body. You found yourself instantly wishing you had even an ounce of artistic talent, because it was no doubt that Bokuto was every figure artists’ dream. 

All at once, your vision was filled with gold and a sweet smile, and too late did you realize you had just been caught staring. Bokuto’s eyes don’t leave yours as he stands up straight, and struts over to you in nothing but a pair of nude briefs. 

“Alright, everyone, your timed session is about to begin,” Professor Nobuta’s voice had startled you nearly out of your seat, and you turn your head back to face the class, cringing inwardly when you noticed some were smirking at you, “Feel free to request poses from the models, as this will be a graded assignment. We only have an hour and a half, so make the most out of your time.”

You feel your body stiffen as Bokuto takes the empty seat next to you, staying silent when you feel his eyes staring at you. You might have been able to ignore this in another setting, but at the moment, about fifty students were watching him watching you -- eyes flitting up the stage down to their sketchbook as they try to decide where to begin. 

Envy coursed through you as the room began to fill with the sounds of graphite scratching against paper, wishing you could switch positions with literally anybody else in the room. You tried to relax your body against the stool, awkwardly attempting to find a natural position for your arms when you were interrupted by a throat clearing. 

Your head turns to the side, heat rushing to your face when you see Bokuto smiling at you.

“Hi,” he greets, his voice a direct contrast against the silent concentration filling the room, “I’m Bokuto!”

His knees were bent as he settled his feet on the first ring of the stool. He rests an elbow on his thigh so he can place his chin on the palm of his hand, giving you an expectant look as he waits for your response. You try to avoid the way his chest seemed to bulge even more in this position, but the furious sound of sketching says you weren’t the only one to notice.

“Bokuto Kotaro,” you say his name back, and he pulls his lips back into an even wider smile, “I know.”

You bite your lip when a student from the back requested for you to cross your legs, resting your hand against your thighs. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to be talking, but Professor Nobuta didn't seem to be paying either of you any mind. 

He hadn’t said anything to you after that, but the grin remained on his lips as requests begin coming in from students across the class.

They were all fairly simple -- please position your hand like so, could you extend your leg this way, or turn your head that way. The first twenty minutes had been spent doing individual tasks and repositioning, and soon you felt yourself relaxing into your role. Your previous jitters had all but dissolved, and you figured if the rest of the session were to go on like this, then you’d be golden. 

Your eyes shift over to Bokuto, who was leaning back with such easy grace, balancing himself with his foot against the footrest. The way his body created such naturally eloquent lines made it seem as if he was born to be a sculpture, to be admired and gazed at, to invoke inspiration and creation. You weren’t sure anyone in this room was even looking at you anymore, with Bokuto acting as if he was the lighthouse in a storm, beckoning all of you to come home. 

He turns his head a second too quickly, winking when his eyes meet yours, and for the second time in less than an hour, you realize you’ve just been caught checking him out. 

Your dignity was slipping through your fingers like sand, and you clear your throat before turning your attention to a poster on the wall.

From the corner of your eye, you see Professor Nobuta stand from her desk and making her way to a student in the corner. The two whisper among each other, and you watched as the professor consults with other students before nodding her head and turning to the both of you. 

“I received a sort of direction from a few students,” she began, beckoning for the both of you to stand, “They were hoping you could do some more intimate poses.” 

You balked, nearly choking on the air in our lungs. “I-intimate?”

Professor Nobuto nodded her head enthusiastically, and you exchanged a look with Bokuto. 

“Whatever you’re comfortable with — an embrace, hand holding, hands on each other’s face — get creative with it!” 

And with that, the professor sits back down on her desk and begins flipping through her phone, and the two of you are left to brace the expectant looks of the art students staring up at you. 

“This your first time?” Bokuto asks you gently, a sort of sympathetic look on his face as his eyes study your stiff posture. 

“Yeah,” you admit, and he coaxes you towards him with an outstretched hand. You hesitantly place your fingers in his palm, and for a moment, he just stood there. It took a minute for the sounds of rapid sketching to register in your brain, and you realize he’s allowing the class to take note of this pose. 

He’s standing directly across from you now, and you can feel his gaze burning trails across your body as he regards you from head to toe. You feel like an ant burning under the beam of a microscope, and you nearly burst into flames when he chuckles. 

“Nice peach,” Bokuto comments, and you nearly recoil back in surprise. The last thing you had expected from Bokuto was a comment like that, but then you notice his eyes flick back down to your underwear. 

The professor’s email hadn’t included too many rules or requirements. She only included the most important details, such as time, place, pay, dress code, and such. Stated in the dress code, you were allowed to wear undergarments of any neutral color. Today, you had chosen a simple pair of black underwear and figured it was the safest choice.

You hadn’t, however, noticed the large cartoon peach that had gracefully adorned the back of it, complete with a cartoon face that winked sparkles. Now that you were forced to stand, and the entire class got a good view for themselves. 

“Thanks,” you deadpan through gritted teeth, “It’s pretty juicy if you asked me.” 

Bokuto fails miserably to hide a smirk, but his eyes sparkled with amusement as he looked down at you. 

A few minutes (or eternity) later, his hand closes around yours, pulling it up to place against his cheek. He pulls you in by the other wrist, wrapping your arm around his waist as he cups the side of your neck. His other arm wraps almost completely around your middle, and he pulls you flush against his chest. 

His body was hard against yours, and you had no doubts he could feel your heart’s hundreds of beats per second. He tilts his head to the side ever so slightly, and you hope he doesn’t notice the sheen of sweat beginning to collect on your upper lip. 

A fire was bound to be started with how quickly everyone around began to move their pencils, and you heart races when Bokuto absentmindedly draws circles on your skin with his thumb. 

He holds you in this embrace for much longer than you anticipated, and the butterflies in your stomach were making you nauseous. His eyes are trained on your face now, the intensity of his stare making you want to shrink back, but you hold your place and return his gaze. 

His eyes narrow and squint, eyebrows wiggling as his face scrunches up in thought. 

“Do I know you?” Bokuto asks, and it was in this moment where you felt your stomach flip flop into the abyss. It was the one question you had hoped he wouldn’t think to ask you. 

Because you did know Bokuto Kotaro, but not in the way everyone else on campus knew him. 

You remember clearly the slow, dreary Wednesday morning when Akaashi Keiji asks you the same thing. 

“Uh, yeah? Of course, you know me, we’re coworkers,” you replied sarcastically, and Akaashi insists it was more than that. 

“You’re hiding something from me,” he simply states, and you inwardly thanked the customer that had walked and interrupted that moment.

But you should have known that Akaashi was not one to let things go, and after being berated the entire shift about how secrets don’t keep friends, you finally confessed.

You were a student at Fukurodani. 

Akaashi didn’t believe you. There was no way, how was that possible? He would have recognized you. But you were the year above him, and had actively avoided school sports. Because as much as you would have liked to watch your school’s Nationally Ranked Volleyball Club play and compete with super hot athletes from across the country, there was one glaring reason why you couldn’t. 

You had confessed to Bokuto Kotaro in your first year. 

And you were soundly, and absolutely rejected. 

He had every right to, of course. You were just his classmate, you didn’t even know each other that well, and he needed to focus all his attention on volleyball. It made sense.You know that now.

But to your young heart, it was world ending, soul crushing even, and it took you two years to get over your ridiculous one-sided crush. 

Now here you were, standing in front of a group of people in nothing but your underwear, with Bokuto staring at you like a fly caught in a trap.

“No, I don’t think so,” you respond, and Bokuto scoffs. 

“You’re a bad liar,” he whispers, and you find yourself grinning. 

“How would you know?” You whisper back, “You just met me.” 

“No, I definitely know you —“ 

“Alright, everyone,” Professor Nobuto announces with a smack on her desk, “That about does it for today’s session. Give some thanks to your models!”

You jump back from Bokuto as the class offers a light round of applause. The two of you bow back, and you rush over to the table as the professor approaches Bokuto. 

You leave the two of them to chat as you hurriedly put your clothes back on, hoisting your bag up on your shoulder, and nearly falling over putting your shoes on.

“Thank you for today,” Professor Nobuto sneaks up from behind, a smile on her face as she hands you a blank white envelope, “I hope I see your name on the sign up sheet again.”

You offer her a grin as you accept the envelope. “Thank you for the opportunity!”

And with that, you rush out of the stuffy room and make a bee line towards the door. 

“Hey, Peaches!” Bokuto’s voice makes you freeze from across the room, and you turn around to see him adorned only his pants. “You never told me your name?” 

With a smirk, you put your hand on the handle, walking out the door as you yelled over your shoulder. 

“I thought you said you knew me!”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“That was a trap, wasn’t it,” you accuse Akaashi as soon as you see him again, walking into your shift at the café just as he was about to clock out. 

His smile was almost evil, punching out as he gathers his jacket. 

“Whatever could you possibly mean, dear coworker,” he replies, and you smack him on the shoulder. 

“You had to have known Bokuto was doing that,” you seethe, glaring at Akaashi, “And you knew about… about… you’re dangerous, Akaashi Keiji.” 

He laughs, waving you off, “You said you needed help, so I offered help.”

“Oh, you conniving little —“ 

“Akaashi, you ready?” A familiar voice cuts you, making your head twist towards the door. 

A set of white and black streaked hair, a devilish grin, bright twinkling eyes — your nightmare in human form walking in. 

His eyes widen as they meet yours from across the room, and he waves a hand in the air as if you could have possibly missed the six foot three volleyball player barely fitting through the door frame.

“Hey, Peaches!” He greets cheerfully, walking and leaning against the counter, “Fancy running into you here.”

“Peaches?” Akaashi asks, and your eyes shoot him a nasty glare. 

“I work here,” you reply, and Bokuto’s eyes widen. 

“Akaashi, why wouldn’t you tell me you have such a cutie for a coworker?!” He demands of his best friend, who simply rolls his eyes and heads out the door. 

“Let’s go, Bokuto-san!”

“Akaashi! Hey, wait,” Bokuto runs one step to the door but stops and turns back, “If I come back tomorrow, you gonna tell me your name then?” 

You laugh. “I don’t work tomorrow.” 

“I’ll ask Akaashi for your schedule then!” He screams as he runs out the door. 

The smile on your face stayed on for the rest of your shift. 

[zhongliologist]

Slowly, Deliberately | Zhongli

Pairing: Zhongli x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT!! SMUT!! SMUT!!

Words: 3.3k

A/N: this was inspired by @genshin-fluff​‘s headcanons! IT WAS SO HOT I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF!! thank you for the idea!!

*WARNING!! THIS IS PURE SMUT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IT IS UPON YOUR DISCRETION. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY*

*

It had been a fantastic night.

Zhongli’s gentle yet steady hold on you still felt warm on your skin as the lanterns above illuminated his face in a bright golden glow, creating patterns of light and shadow on his smiling face. His deep but sensual voice still ringing on your ears as you heard him whisper your name, leading you to his room.

He forgot to open his one last present he says. You wondered what it was.

It had been his birthday today, and the both of you enjoyed it thoroughly. A picnic by the Liyue cliffsides in the morning and a dinner date at the Wanmin Restaurant in the evening, then a small peaceful walk along the stone tiled streets of the harbor as the winter sea breeze kept the both of you huddled together.

It was one of days where you would hear him genuinely laugh out loud—a deep chuckle as he gazes at you with endearment, his fingers securing a stray lock behind your ear. He just makes you feel so many things all at once that you couldn’t really put a name to each and every emotion. But you were sure of one thing—you loved him.

And as the day finally draws near to its demise; the stars high up in the pitch black sky, twinkling brightly as ever before, he held you once more.

It hadn’t escaped your notice how your lover (not boyfriend, he says, because it is not the most appropriate label), has taken upon himself to buy you the most expensive and most intricate clothing he could find his hands on, and have you wear them even in the most common occasions.

The clothes were extraordinary in and of itself—complex lacing, sheer fabric, ribbons and blouses which attach to and fro, front and back and in everything and everywhere. It took you several tries to finally make sense of them, but no matter the complexity, they were still beautiful—a testament of Zhongli’s eye for high quality items.

Yet the most complicated and elaborate one was of course, reserved for his birthday. As soon as he had heard you prepare a surprise date (which wasn’t much of a surprise anymore), he immediately sent you the dress with the explicit instruction to wear it on that special day.

And you did. Now, as he stood right there front of you, his hands once again on your waist; his eyes bearing nothing but love and appreciation.

“Thank you for tonight, YN. It’s been a while since I have celebrated my own birthday, and I am truly glad I am able to spend it with you,” he whispered with a sweet smile.

“Me too. I’m glad you enjoyed it…” you replied, wondering what was inside his thoughts like most of the time.

As he leaned down towards you, a ghost of a smile on his lips, he captured yours in a gentle but sensual kiss, pouring every ounce of his feelings on that one single action—hoping that maybe you would understand what the deep recesses of his heart contained.

And maybe you did—knowingly or unknowingly—as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. You could feel it, at every nip, at every bite or touch of his lips; that this man has fallen hard, and you were not any better.

“Zhongli…” you whispered his name in between pecks and long drawn kisses, breathless and panting. You didn’t have to say it but Zhongli knew what you wanted.

“Patience, my dear,” he replied back as he pulled away, a mysterious smile on his lips.

You stood there dazed and confused, as Zhongli cupped your chin and tilted your head up, his bright amber eyes glowing with mischief. A shiver coursed down your spine as you bit the side of your cheek to stop you from mewling, but it had already made its effect.

“Tonight,” he began, his unoccupied hand now grazing on the sheer fabric of your blouse, feeling the ribbons against your collarbones with his every finger. “I’ll be unwrapping my gift.”

“G-gift…?” you asked as you felt his hands travel down your waist and to your hips and up again. “Haven’t I already given you one?”

At your question, the man only chuckled at you and smirked. Zhongli said nothing as he began to walk around as if encircling his prey, his eyes roaming but his hands never touching. It felt as if he was undressing you with his eyes, especially when you felt him stand tall behind your back, his digits now brushing your hair away from your neck.

“There is another gift I failed to mention,” he said, his hand slowly pulling the ribbons open on your back before leaning in to kiss your now bare nape. “And I shall enjoy this gift thoroughly to show my appreciation.”

Zhongli kept you still by wrapping his arms around your waist as he continued to kiss down your back at every skin he exposed. Often he would stop at one area, just to suck and leave his own mark which often made you shudder.

Slowly, deliberately.

Zhongli would remove one layer of clothing at a time, and then leave a few lingering kisses to the places he touched.

As he took off your outer wear, his hands roamed your arms and to your digits, kissing the knuckles and every finger. He would then look at you with those lustful eyes when he popped the buttons off your sheer outer blouse one by one, his tongue taking no time to explore the newly exposed area with fervent desire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered on your skin, each word punctuated by a kiss. “Every part of you is a work of art—your voice, your eyes, your mind…your body. You make my heart beat race ceaselessly.”

“W-wait…I—ah…!” you moaned, unable to keep it in anymore as his touch became bolder and more adventurous.

He was behind you again after he removed the first blouse; admiring the straps of ribbon holding the dress up. His lips now upon your bare shoulder, peppering small light pecks on your skin as his hands on your waist moved to fondle your breasts.

“It seems I have made the right decision to buy you this dress,” Zhongli told you as he nibbled on your ear, his tongue following after. “I simply wish to devour you tonight.”

Mind in utter chaos, you couldn’t think of anything but his slow and sensual progress of undressing you. Each time his lips or his tongue or his hands ravished you, it seemed like fire has been ignited on your skin; the heat surging down to your lower parts.

You could feel his large hands on your chest, stimulating your clothed nipples—only making you lean against him, moaning. Glancing up, you caught his attention with your sultry half-lidded eyes.

“Zhongli…please stop teasing me…”

He chuckled, his deep voice making his chest rumble. Looking down on you with his lips just a few centimeters away, he replied.

“Forgive me, darling yet I am not yet done with enjoying my present. Perhaps you can endure it for a while, hm?”

“Zhongli…!” you whined and was about to retort when a sudden gasp escaped your lips.

Biting your shoulder, Zhongli gave your shoulder and neck a thorough inspection as he sucked and nipped on your most sensitive points. He raked his lips up your jaw, leaving a wake of splotches of colors on your skin. It seemed to quell the possessiveness in him, seeing those marks he left on you—reminding him, you and everybody that you are his and his only.

“Will you be a good girl for me, YN?” he asked, his deft fingers now untying the knots holding the sash in place as it fell down on the floor in one swoop.

“What…?” you asked while he kicked the spent clothes away and led you to a corner of the room beside his bed.

When he finally stopped, you immediately realized what was in front of you. A mirror.

Zhongli was once again behind you, his head nuzzling on your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Look at how aroused you look, my love,” he muttered just behind your ear, a smirk on his lips. “If only I could take you right here, right now, and bend you towards the mirror and thrust into you sharply. Make you scream my name and how good I make you feel until my seed drips from your cunt. But it would end just like that, wouldn’t it, YN?”

Pressing you against him, you suddenly felt his erection poking your back which only drove your arousal to new heights. You were still dressed but the way your skin flushed with heat and the way your breath ragged seemed like he had kissed you senseless over and over again.

“Do you understand now why I want to enjoy you as much as I can?” he asked, a growl escaping his throat as his hands dipped further from your waist and towards your thighs.

The dress was cut just a little above your knee—the cloth the only thing separating your bare skin from his sensual touch. It drove you crazy. Unable to look at yourself in the mirror, you looked down on the wooden floor yet that didn’t save you as much as you had hoped.

“Darling, look at you.”

Forcibly propping your head up with his hand, you had no choice but to gaze into your reflection—a moaning mess of ajar lips and half lidded eyes as he groped your body tirelessly. You could feel the dampness soaking your underwear when you found his eyes—smoldering amber swirling deep with desire.

Zhongli smirked.

“Oh? Did you like what you see?” he muttered as you saw his eyes glint. “Then don’t dare remove your eyes from me.”

At this point, you could hardly understand anything as the pleasure of his touch drove your thoughts somewhere else. But when he walked in front of you and knelt down, you instantly knew what he was about to do and you weren’t sure if you can actually stay true to his orders.

“Allow me to undress you, my love,” Zhongli whispered with a conniving grin, removing both your shoes and setting them aside.

Without waiting for you to reply, he raked his finger up the calf of your leg and to your thighs—the ticklish sensation making you utter such dirty sounds. He was testing the waters, watching your every reaction as he kept on moving his hands up and down your stocking-covered legs.

“Z-Zhongli…”

You gasped, your hands tightly grasped his head as you felt his lips kiss your thigh. Slowly, gradually, his thumb meandered lines on the boundary of the knee-high socks and your bare skin, threatening to go further up at any given time.

Zhongli relished all the sounds you made as he pushed the dress up, finding the seam of the sock with his lips. Gazing up, he met your eyes as his teeth sunk on the garment, pulling it off with his mouth and making sure you saw it with your own two eyes.

Struggling to keep your balance from your weakening knees, you leaned one arm on the mirror as Zhongli kept on assaulting your leg with fervent and feverish kisses which sent jolts of pleasure towards your cunt. He of course, left his marks on your skin.

“You’re mine. Only mine.”

Even without you noticing, he had already removed the other sock from your leg; his head slipping underneath your dress. You could feel his breath on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your dripping cunt as he suckled on your sensitive skin, earning a mewl and a shudder up your spine.

“Oh god…Zhongli…!”

He could hear you struggle to maintain yourself, but in his opinion, you were already too far gone—as much as he is anyway. He could feel his dick straining against his pants; the desire to fuck you getting stronger and stronger at every passing second. But he had to wait, he had to be patient.

He had to prepare you.

Pressing a finger on your clothed cunt, he could already tell how wet you were even without hearing your moans. As he poked your hole with his finger, he could feel your legs shake which made him steady you with his hands.

“P-please…please…Zhongli….!”

You begged as you kept your eyes tightly shut, feeling the sensation of his fingers tightly gripping your hips and his breathe on your cunt.

Unable to resist himself, Zhongli pushed aside your underwear and began licking the fluids dripping down from your hole, making sure he got every last drop. You clenched a fistful of his hair as your knees buckled at the pleasurable assault on your cunt.

And when you thought you had enough pleasure for tonight, Zhongli began sucking on your clit, forcing a cry from your lips, as his tongue lapped and suck at the sensitive nub. You couldn’t take it anymore; you were definitely close to climax—the string hold you together was so tightly wound that it could snap at any time.

“W-wait…please…! I…I’m—!”

As if reading your thoughts, he pushed you even further by inserting a finger inside of you, pumping in and out as his tongue drew circles around your clit. You groaned loudly, almost bending over as you felt your climax wash over you in multiple waves of pleasure—electrocuting you from your toes to the ends of your fingertips.

At exactly the same time Zhongli finally emerged from underneath your dress, your legs finally gave up on you, making him catch your delicate and still sensitive body in his arms. Brushing the stray locks on your sweat stained face, he gently kissed your forehead as a token of his love.

“You’ve been a good girl,” he praised you, setting you on the bed with a sweet smile. “Allow me to clean you—”

You pulled on his sleeve before he could leave. “…wait…I—”

Zhongli gazed at you from where he sat on the bed, your implication beginning to dawn on him.

“Forgive me, I haven’t realized…” he began as he shifted closer to you. “…that you wish for me, as much as I wish for you.”

With his hand on the back of your head, Zhongli pushed his lips against yours in a searing kiss; tongues on one another as he explored every bit of your mouth. It took him some time to realize that it wasn’t enough; concerned that you were far too exhausted to continue, but now that he had your permission, he wouldn’t be holding back any longer.

With the slow and teasing foreplay replaced by a burning desire that was never there before, Zhongli quickly divested you of your final clothing; tossing the dress uncaringly towards the floor. Hooking his fingers around the sides of your underwear, he then removed it as he kissed down your stomach as he worshipped every curve of your body.

“You’re so beautiful, my love,” he whispered, “I have never laid eyes on such beauty before.”

Kneeling in front of your lying figure, Zhongli raked his eyes all over you as you visibly saw how they instantly got clouded with lust and hunger. You could feel his domineering presence towering above you as he hurriedly removed his coat, tie and shirt—everything, except his pants.

“Zhongli…please,” you coaxed him, all bare and naked in front of him. “I want you…”

An easy smirk crept up his lips.

“I see you have asked so nicely of me,” he started as he removed his impressive dick from its constraints. “I shall grant you your wish then.”

Pressing the tip on your wet entrance, you gradually felt him enter; stretching you to amounts you have never expected. To distract you, Zhongli captured your lips into a kiss, his tongue once again rendering you speechless, as his hands found themselves fondling your breasts. In time, he had buried himself into you to the hilt, whispering sweet nothings to your ear.

“Zhongli…! Please move…” you muttered, your breaths shallow as you tried to accommodate his size. Even after so many times, it still took some time to get used to him inside you.

Slowly, Zhongli began to move; watching your every expression to see if you were in pain. He knew he was bigger than normal and he had to be patient when it comes to you, but eventually, you both would find a right rhythm and pace for it to start feeling good.

“You take me in so well, my love,” he whispered to you, his lips just above yours as he thrusted into you sharply.

“F-fuck…Zhongli….oh god!” You cried as he kept on hitting your sensitive spot, your nails raking down his back.

You could feel the electrifying-burning sensations underneath your skin once again as the sounds of skin slapping against on another echoed across the room. You could hear your insides squelching as his dick rubbed against your walls; making you clench on him tighty.

Zhongli growled. His intense eyes on yours in an instant;  his hand finding your clit to rub as he kept on pounding you over and over again. You could feel him so deep inside you, filling you up entirely, even more so when he placed your leg on his shoulder; allowing for a much deeper access.

“S-so good…! Ah….Zhongli….! Z-Zhongli…! Harder…please!”

Not one to disappoint, he shoved his cock harshly inside of you as he quickened his pace; still rubbing your clit to push to even further to climax.

“YN…! Ahh….you’re so tight…” he whispered, his eyes also sultry as he kept on pounding inside of you; the girth of his dick stretching you wide.

In a moment’s impulse, Zhongli turned you around on your hands and knees and then went back inside of you in a sharp thrust that only elicited a loud moan from your lips. He kept on fucking you from behind, relentlessly and rapidly until you were reduced into a mess on the bed, drooling and biting on the sheets as he continued on.

“Z-Zhongli…!” you uttered his name over and over again as if you were under a spell.

He leaned down towards you, lapping on your shoulder and your nape. “Are…are you close, my love? I’m close to climax as well…”

With ragged breathes, you forced out a yes from your throat. “Oh god…p-please…! Y-yes! Zhongli…cum…p-please cum inside!”

Upon hearing those words, you could hear him groan beside your ear, his hands on your waist holding you in a tight grip. Just by those words, he has been pushed to the brink of climax. He had never thought he’d love to hear those words from you.

“F-Fuck…YN…! I’m going to come…! I’m going to come inside…! Take all of my seed!”

As his pace began to become more manic, you could feel him twitch inside of you. Just one sharp thrust, and the both of you were gone; convulsing as your orgasm washed over you for the second time while Zhongli groaned and emptied himself inside of you, the warm pumps of his cum filling you to the brim.

Spent and exhausted, you slumped back on the bed as Zhongli pulled out from you, making you mewl at the sudden emptiness. He could see his cum beginning to drip out of your cunt, unable to hold everything inside.

Absentmindedly, he scooped it up with his fingers and pushed his cum back inside your hole, smearing his seed on your slit as he continued; earning a protest from you.

“W-wait…I’m still sensitive…!”

Zhongli flinched as he removed his hand, face flushing. “Oh, forgive me. I…I simply do not wish to see it like that…”

As you heard his words, you grinned at him as you laid on the bed. “Could it be that you really want to get me pregnant?”

He could feel the teasing lilt in your voice which made him smile at you. Leaning down, he gave you a quick peck on your forehead and then a small kiss on your lips.

“If you are not yet exhausted tonight, we can make sure of that.”

[glowinggator]

Normalcy

Request:  aaaa can I ask for 36 with Donnie for the kissing thing? thank you, your writing makes me very happy ❤️

Prompt 36: Kissing away tears

Pairing: Donatello/Reader

Content Warnings: The first angst fic... Light angst with a happy ending! 

Word Count: 1095 

Donatello stretches in his bed, pulling his electric blanket closer to him. The heated fabric glides effortlessly over his shell, free of the hard metal and plastic of his battleshell and instead covered with a soft, purple hoodie. It’s a rare sight, to be sure. The neon purple lights of his room cast a cooling glow on his painted pixels, painting a scene that would put even the most devout purple-enthusiasts to shame. Any other time, he’d be sending you photos to capture the moment. Perhaps he’d attach some snarky, witty caption about how “God put him on the earth to serve looks.”

Although, today isn’t a normal day. He runs a lone finger over his phone’s screen, scrolling through long-lost social media. Yours, to be exact. Your profile is decorated with countless photos from different points in your life: friends, family, food, art… Although, most of the photos are old. Likely an abandoned account, or one that you use to keep in touch with family.

It’s hard to imagine being in a relationship when you’re so secluded from the world, Sure, he’s had thoughts: grand and fantastical thoughts of romance that sweep him away, even if they’re never voiced out loud. Oh, how his brothers would tease him if they had heard his lovesick thoughts in his youth. He’d tease himself about it too, honestly. But now, he’s here. He’s given his heart and soul and has been given anothers’ in return. Despite his confident demeanor, he never thought he’d be in an actual relationship, much less with a human, but… he’s here. He made it. And he couldn’t be happier about it! But his mind wanders back to all those nights spent alone in his thoughts, and he realizes something: he’ll never have those small, domestic displays of affection with you. No photos together on social media, no double dates on the surface, no shopping at malls for overpriced t-shirts, no...normalcy. He’s never wanted normalcy, but god, wouldn’t it be nice to spend time with you like that? Or hell, to even hold your hand like a normal person?

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to proclaim loud and proud that he’s your partner and vice versa. To put a face to the name, and for people to know that you’re as much his as he is yours. But... he can’t. And he knows that. But knowing doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You’re so perfect. And he’s so...different.

The tears are falling before he can stop them, and he rubs at the tracks roughly. “Fucking, shit,” he hisses, shooting up from under the covers. He doesn’t know why he’s fighting the tears, but fuck, they won’t stop coming and his heart hurts and he feels pathetic and why do you even stay and-

~~~

Your hand stills above the numpad, hesitating to punch in the last number. Something about the lair feels off. Not a sense of danger per say, but… something doesn’t feel right. Your fingers graze the final number, and the door slides open with a deafening hiss. And fuck, you swear that you can feel your heart shattering at the sight before you. You walk forward quietly, taking as big of strides as you can, and sit down by his side. He jumps when you graze your hand across his shell, as though he hadn’t realized you’d come in at all. His breath stills when your eyes meet, and the look on his face can only be described as pure fear and… vulnerability. He doesn’t breathe but his tears continue to fall, leaving trails of hurt as they run from his eyes, down to his jaw, and onto the plush covers. His eyes dart around your face for a moment before landing on your fallen hand. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t breathe. Your heart aches.

“What’s wrong?” You whisper.

He doesn’t respond, eyes still glued to your hand. The silence is deafening, and it only serves to fuel your worry. His fingers twitch before curling back into themselves: just as you’re about to press again, he speaks. It’s so quiet that you hardly catch it, but you catch it nonetheless. “It’s nothing,” comes his reply.

“Donnie, please,” you plead, “I want to help. I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but please, let me help.”

“I just,” he sighs, “I don’t… Why? Why do you stay?”

“Why do I stay?” You ask, “What do you mean?”

“Why do you stay with me? I don’t- I don’t get it! You could be living some great, normal life with a human, and yet you choose me, and I don’t understand why. Like, I, I just…” He fumbles for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I… you’ll never have a normal life with me. And I want to give that to you so bad, but I’m not… I’m not human. I don’t know why you would want to stay with me.” He all but collapses into his hands as the last syllable leaves his lips, only to scratch at the new wave of tears running down his face.

“D, look at me.”

He does so, slowly, but does so nonetheless. You cup his face gently, wiping away his tears with your thumbs. “Donatello, I stay with you because I love you.” You kiss his cheek. “I don’t want a normal life, and I never have.”

Kiss.

“You’re smart.”

Kiss.

“Funny.”

Kiss.

“Brave as all hell.”

Kiss.

“When I see other couples in the street, I smile. Not because I want what they have, but it makes me excited to come back home to you! To listen to you talk about your newest discovery, or your newest invention. To dance among the stars with you, or to walk between worlds with you! I love the way my hand feels in yours, and I love curling up to you in the dead of winter. I love how fucking nerdy you sound when you talk about WoW, how your eyes light up when you get passionate, and the way you talk with your hands. I love your laugh, and the way you smirk when you’re trying really hard not to smile. I love you because you’re you, Donnie. I don’t want normalcy: I want you. ”

And this time, he kisses you. His hands move like lightning to cup your face, and he kisses you like a man possessed. And in between breaths, whispers of “I love you” float out to encircle you both, like down feathers in the wind. [I hope this was okay!! I had a lot of fun writing this <3 Thank you for the kind words!]

[thecousinsdangereux]

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

--

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

[regretthatsme]

Looney's Sister - Harry Potter x Fem!Lovegood!Reader

That's right bitches, bros, and nonbinary hoes. I'm back. I'm so happy that I finished a oneshot. AAAAAAHHHHHHHH! I'm sorry I've taken so long to post. But, it's here now!

Harry didn't know when his fondness for Luna's sister, Y/N, started. He just knew that he liked her a lot. They were quite good friends, actually. A few years ago, she saw him struggling with herbology, which just so happened to be Y/N's strong suit. It quite convenient honestly, especially when you consider the fact that Y/N was have issues in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

He knew from the start that his feelings for her were more than platonic. What he didn't expect was for him to fall so hard. But, how could he not when she was so perfect.

Her bubbly personality was so inviting and warm. Her eyes made e/c his favorite color. He adored her laugh; it sounded like a beautiful melody. Her smile was just as stunning.

Godric, I'm whipped, he thought. There was one issue, though. He couldn't for the life of him ask her out, ironic for a Gryffindor. What if she doesn't like me? How do I ask her out?

His mind would race into the late hours of the night, wondering how he would work up the courage to ask her out. He knew she wouldn't like something big and extravagant, for she had trouble processing lots of information at once, much like her sister. Her sister!

Harry wondered how he never thought of asking Luna before. I mean, their personalities mirrored each other almost perfectly. He quickly ran to the forbidden forest. Luna spent most of her time there.

"Hello, Harry." A dreamy voice called to him.

"Hello, Luna."

"Is there a reason you are here?"

"Umm... yeah." Harry's face became very hot suddenly, a stark contrast to the nippy weather that morning. "I-uh. I should probably come right out and say it, shouldn't I?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated." Luna responded. Harry couldn't tell if she was sarcastic or not.

"I've fallen deeply in love with your sister, and I was wondering if you knew how I could ask her out."

Luna was clear shocked by this revelation. She thought for a few minutes before replying, "I appreciate your honesty, however I cannot say that I am too pleased with it."

Harry's face fell slightly. "What does that mean?"

"Harry, she's recently had her heart broken by another. I'm sorry, but I do not trust you with her love."

-*-*-*-

He knew he shouldn't be over thinking this. He knew that it was pointless. He knew it was only going to give him stress, but he couldn't stop as much as he tried. Who would dare hurt her? Her? The most caring, beautiful person in Hogwarts?

Needless to say, Harry's eyes were sporting some serious under eye bags the next morning.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Asked Hermione during breakfast, noting the discoloration under her friend's eyes.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"He was up late last night." Said his best friend and roommate, Ronald Weasley.

"No, I wasn't, Ron."

"Okay. Fine. You went to bed at a reasonable time." Ron said before turning to Hermione and mouthing No he didn't. Harry was about to retaliate before a small body sat down next to him. A dreamy voice rendered his speech effectively useless as a flush filled his cheeks.

"Hello Hermione, Ron. Good morning, Harry." She addressed each individually, as she always does. "How are we this morning?"

Ron smirked a small bit at his friend's face. "Oh, I'm splendid." He remarked, chuckling slightly at his friend's state. "What about you, Harry?"

Y/N seemed to perk up at the name. Her head turned to him, only now noticing the rosy hue on his cheeks. "Oh dear, you don't look so well." Her voice was distinctly quieter, almost as if she only wanted him to hear. Her hand slowly came up to feel his forehead. "You're absolutely scalding! And it's clear you haven't gotten any sleep."

She panicked slightly.

Ron tried to hold in a laugh. "Oh, yes. Harry was hacking and wheezing last night. It was horrible."

Harry's eyes were about the size of saucers. "What are you doing?" He whispered.

"Trust me." He mouthed back.

"He's in no shape to go to class. Someone must take care of him." Harry just realized what Ron was trying to do. Wanker.

"I would, but Hermione and I have a test first period." Hermione nodded too, quickly becoming aware of his scheme. "Looks like you're going to need to take care of him. I really wish I could help."

Y/N's eyes never left Harry's face. "Be sure to tell the teachers about Harry's predicament." She said as she dragged him out of the great hall, despite his protests. She knew the password was as she was a frequenter of the Gryffindor common room. He was led to his dorm and was forced onto the bed.

"Y/N, I'm gonna tell you one more time. I'm not-"

"Shhhhhh." She cut him off. "Harry, relax. I can't remember the last time you did." She did have a point. He couldn't remember the last time he had a stress free hour, much less day. "I'm going to go to the kitchen and whip up something. Get some rest, alright?" He nodded his head. His eyelids slowly fluttered and closed. He didn't really dream, but he felt a sort of presence. It felt like a giant hug.

He didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he woke to the sound of Y/N closing his bedroom door. "I made a soup with some clowort root mixed in. It should help with your symptoms." She said. "And, there is some water to wash it all down."

"You never cease to amaze me." He said rather bluntly in his sleepy delirium. He took a spoonful of the soup. It tasted quite like the food in the great hall, but there was something distinctly different from it. There was an unmistakable taste of... home. He quickly went for more.

"Slow down, Harry!" Y/N's volume raised ever so slightly. "Consuming large amounts of clowort root can lead to some unwanted side effects."

"Like what?"

She gestured for him to lead forward, as if telling him a secret. "People tend to make quite irrational decisions when copious amounts of clowort are in their system." She pulled back and gave a stern yet loving gaze.

"I don't know. I've eaten a decent amount and I don't feel a thing." He said indifferently. She simply rolled her eyes and looked away from him.

"Hey. I uh... I heard from Luna that you had some trouble with a boy and I'm here if you need to talk or anything." He knew that he probably shouldn't invite his crush to talk openly about a romantic partner she had, but he would listen to her talk about anything and everything just to hear her voice.

"Oh. It's nothing. Just a stupid fling that hadn't even lasted a month." Y/N said, her eyes becoming more solemn looking.

"It's just... if I had a girlfriend," especially one as perfect as you, "I would treat her better than that."

"I can see the brash decision making has already taken effect." Y/N jokes lightly, but only was laughing at it.

"I'm serious, you know." He said, grabbing her hand and lacing her fingers through his.

"Harry, you're not thinking straight-"

"Ever since we met each other and you helped me with your helped me with my homework. You were so kind."

"Harry, please don't-"

"I understand if you don't feel the same way, I wouldn't be so keen on falling in love someone who nearly dies every other weekend either, but I needed you to-"

"Harry." Her voice was ferm enough to cut off his incoherent ramblings. Her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. "You're not well. You're saying things you don't mean-"

"No, I'm not-"

"Harry, I can't have my heart broken again." Her eyes held a certain glossiness to it that he hadn't seen before. Her voice was almost breaking. "You are amazing and sweet and beautiful and... well, words can hardly describe how much I admire you. But," Her eyes darted around the room, trying to avoid eye contact. "You're just doing this because you're sick and under the influence. You don't mean it-"

"Yes, I do!" Harry giggled slightly. He was getting a bit frustrated at this point. "What do I have to do to prove it to you?"

She looked deep into his emerald eyes. They say eyes are the window to the soul, and they weren't lying. Every emotion, every thought running through his pretty head, everything could be seen in them. It was so intense, she could only make eye contact for a few seconds.

"Nothing." Y/N whispered. Harry's head snapped to her. "I believe you, Harry." They sat in silence for a while, processing the revelation that just took place. It was a bit awkward. Okay, very awkward. The apprehension of the unknown was creeping upon them. Now what? Where do we go from here?

Harry was the first to make a move. He held his arm out, inviting her join him on his, rather small in hindsight, bed. She happily accepted and curled into his side. She was practically on top of him due to the size of the bed, yet he couldn't be happier. Neither could she.

Bonus:

"HARRY JAMES POTTER, WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?" Y/N was positive that Luna's cries could be heard throughout the entire castle.

"Luna, please calm down-" She tried to console.

"GET AWAY FROM MY SISTER!"

[themorphine]

The Picnic-Feysand Date <3

So happy to announce that me and @wintersouldier57 teamed up and wrote a feysand fic in celebration of both hitting 100 followers! Go say congrats to @wintersouldier57 SHES AMAZING

It had been a long few weeks for the high lord and lady of the night court. Between their regularly scheduled meetings and taking care of Nyx, things had been hard. They had scarcely found any time for themselves in the midst of it, hardly any to just be together, enjoying each other’s presence. When Feyre wasn’t at a meeting, Rhys was in the Illyrian mountains handling the armies with Cassian. When Rhys was home, Feyre was at the art studio. Their schedules never seemed to line up.

They often spoke mentally, providing each other as much comfort as they could in that capacity, but they soon found that even psychic communication had its limits when it came to comforting one another. Feyre missed the way his arms felt around her, the way he would whisper soothing words into her ear when things became too much to handle. She understood that they had their responsibilities to their court. They were high lord and lady, after all. Still, she was restless. She wanted nothing more than to feel his embrace, nothing more than to drown in a pool of the transcendent love he offered her.

There was a dull ache in her heart that she knew only he could alleviate. She longed for him. She had not known desperation so deep since her days before coming to Prythian. That desperation, that hunger, had burned, but never like this. It had seared from the inside out, but never straight from the heart. Not like this did. This killed slowly, she thought, deliberately. She felt as though she had been traipsing around Velaris with half a soul, never quite able to get comfortable anywhere she went.

She would see him today. For the first time in weeks, everything lined up. Cassian and Azriel had agreed to take Nyx off their hands for the day for what Cassian called “much-needed uncle time”. They would pick him up as soon as she returned home for the day.

She was a bit surprised that Cassian had not said anything, no teasing. She didn't say anything though, she did not want to give him any ideas. He probably does not want to lose any time with Nyx, she thought, and chuckled silently.

“What’s so funny my High Lady? Rhysie has some good jokes for once?” Rhysand must have heard that from wherever he was, because he responded in Feyre’s and Cassian’s head, At least my jokes don't have every female in all of Prythian running for the hills Cassian. Feyre laughed harder, Cassian chuckling as well.

“Well have fun you two, and be sure to be home at a respectable time, and PLEASE use a sound barrier, I do not want to have to explain what noises are being heard all over this cauldron-damned city to this little one.” He said in his most “mother hen” voice, and tickled a giggling Nyx in his arms. Feyre glared at him while he laughed, and Rhys must have said something in his head, for he laughed even harder.

“BYE CASSIAN” Feyre shouted, making a beeline to the door. She could still hear Cassian's laughter,

Once she was outside, she took a deep breath of the fresh air. It was a nice day, perfect for a walk in the park or a trip to the market squares. Perhaps she and Rhys could take a walk when he returned. She would love nothing more than to walk through Velaris hand in hand with her mate. She missed simple intimacies like that, little touches.

You look simply delectable in that dress, Feyre darling.

He had spoken into her mind. Could he see her? Where was he? She looked around but could not find him. Suddenly, there was a pressure underneath her knees, lifting her into the air. She yelped, surprised that he had picked her up.After the initial surprise, she spoke;

“You should have given me some warning, you prick.”

He chuckled, “Now what would be the fun in that Feyre Darling?”

She tried her best to look unaffected by the nickname, and replied “The fun would be that I wouldn't have to scream and not fall on my face for all of Velaris to see.”

He put on a face of mock hurt. “You really think I would drop you darling? I would never!”

She glared. “Based on what you did last time, I won't trust you for another 1000 years, 900 if your lucky.”

He laughed harder, burrowing his face in my neck, to try and silence it. Once he calmed he breathed in my neck, savouring her smell.

“If I could bottle your smell I would drink it every day.” He sighed, hugging Feyre tightly, as if she could disappear any moment. And to be honest based on how long they had been apart, they both felt as if they would disappear, but thank the cauldron they wouldn't.

Finally, after all this time, they were together. She smiled as she nuzzled closer to his chest. Through the bond, she could feel the pure happiness coursing through Rhys. Her grin widened as she felt the wind blazing past them.

She wondered where he might be taking her. They hadn’t discussed their plans beyond spending the day together. Wherever they were headed, though, Feyre knew she would love it. She would love it because he would be there with her. For the first time in a long while, she was home. An unyielding warmth welled up in her heart in the place of the ravenous longing she had been experiencing before. She was with Rhys now, and all was well, at least for the day.

She looked down and watched the vibrant landscape of Velaris fly by beneath them. She could easily fly herself, but she didn’t want to. At least for now, she wanted to be held by him. Judging by the way his arms were wrapped around her more tightly than usual, it was clear that he was enjoying it too. There was something about him holding her like that. It always gave her butterflies, no matter how long they had been together. Even with the centuries stretching out before them, she could be sure that that would never change. Not this, and not the way they felt for each other. She would always look at him as though he had hung the very stars that shone above Ramiel on the Night Court’s insignia, and he would always look to her and see his darling mate, his salvation.

They continued their flight. When he landed and sat her on her feet, she mourned the close contact. She took in their surroundings. They stood on a hill overlooking the city. From the vantage point, she could see it all. She saw the rainbow and the Sidra, twinking as it reflected the sun’s light. What she took the most note of, though, was the blanket laid out on the grass, a small basket sitting at its center.

A picnic.

Rhys had planned a picnic.

She didn’t realize it was possible to love him more than she already did.

He watched her intently, taking in the shift in her expression. He grinned widely. He loved seeing her like this, happy and content. For once, she looked her age. She looked like the 20 year-old girl she was, and without eyes that looked haunted or scared. Their duties could wait. Right now, as they stood on this hill, things were for once simple. The world was quiet, save for the slight breeze that occasionally brushed against their ears. They were happy. War and politics be damned.

“Happy, my love?”

She looked down to find that her hand was glowing. It seemed that her body was speaking for itself. Instead of answering, she took a few steps toward him, placing her shining palm on the side of his face, stroking his cheek. His violet eyes were alight with the spark of love. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. It wasn’t like things had been recently. It wasn’t the quick kiss of someone trying to make time between meetings or the kind of kiss she would give him as she passed him on the way to feed Nyx. The kiss they now shared was sweet, unhurried, as though they had all the time in the world to stand there and relish in what they were feeling.

After what felt like a millenia, he slowly pulled away from her, once again meeting her eyes.

“I’ve missed that,” he said.

“I’ve missed you,” Feyre replied, tears brimming in her eyes. But she was smiling, a broad, indestructible smile that made Rhys look at her in wonder

They stared at each other for a moment longer before Rhys motioned to the blanket.

“Let’s get more comfortable.”

They made their way over to the blanket and they sat next to one another. She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder. With his other arm, he reached for the basket, producing several sandwiches and a container of what she assumed was some sort of stew. He sat the food in front of them before he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on her hair.

She knew she was likely still glowing. She didn’t need to look down to know. Rhys picked up one of the sandwiches and held it to her lips. She took a bite, savoring the taste. She quickly realized where she had tasted it before. It was one of the sandwiches from her favorite restaurant. She beamed. Her clever, loving mate had gone there and procured it for her, just to make her happy. She recalled a time when such a thing would have been an ordeal, a time when her former lover had refused to so much as let her leave the house. She wished more than anything that she could go back in time and tell that girl that this was waiting on the horizon, that such a love awaited her beyond all the turmoil.

He put a hand on her hair, lightly stroking it as he held up the sandwich once again for her. She took another bite, turning slightly.

“I can feed myself, you know,” she laughed.

“What kind of male would I be if I didn’t care for my lovely hardworking mate?”

She reached over, grabbing a sandwich and holding it up for him. They spent the rest of the picnic like that, feeding each other bits of food and staring into one another’s eyes. When they had finished their meal, Rhys put what remained back in the basket and pulled her closer, pushing her head down onto his lap as he continued to stroke her hair. They stayed like that for a while, him stroking her hair and occasionally leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead. It had been going on for some time when he finally said, “I don’t know what I’ve done in this life to deserve this. To deserve you.”

She looked up at him. His eyes were tender.

“You do deserve this. You’ve done so much good in your life, Rhys. You deserve every bit of happiness.”

He smiled.

“You are my happiness,” he said, his voice shaky, pressing another kiss to her brow, “and I will spend the rest of this eternity showing you how much I treasure you, my love, my mate, my salvation.”

She looked into his eyes. She wanted to say something, but she was at a loss. No words in her vocabulary could accurately describe what she was feeling, the depth of her affection for the male in front of her. She hoped her face and the glow of her skin said enough. They seemed to, as a moment later he pulled her into a tight embrace.

“My Feyre,” he said, nuzzling her neck, “my light.”

“I love you,” she said. She had never meant anything more.

“I love you too,” he responded, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

He continued trailing light kisses down the column of her throat, smiling into her neck as he heard her breath hitch slightly. He readjusted, laying her down on the blanket. Her face was flushed as he stared down at her. He knelt down on top of her, pressing a long kiss onto her collarbone.

“Now prepare yourself, darling,” he said, “I’m going to show you just how much I’ve missed you.”

She was not prepared.

Tag List:

@feysandandnyxsworld

@that-sociopathic-hufflepuff

@emikadreams

@highladysith

@cardansfae

@aelin-bitch-queen

tagging some ppl who wanted to be in my jealous rhysand fic just in case u wanna se thisss

@live-the-fangirl-life

@story-scribbler

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Long Con Part One

Prologue | Masterlist | Next Part Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader Rating: T Notes: Oh hey there! Welcome to Dany Has Been Googling Art Stuff For Like Two Months The Series. Warnings: Cursing (meant to mention that before WHOOPSADOODLE sorry) Summary: You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“The Raft of the Medusa, huh?”

You didn‘t bother to look away from your laptop where you were stationed at your lectern.

“Géricault did good work,” You answered as you finished answering the email that you were working on. You knew that this couldn’t be a terribly timely or pressing matter, because the FBI agent that had shown up had bothered to sit through the second half of your lecture that morning. 

“How long have you guys been up to romanticism?” He asked.

“Oh, just this week. Géricault’s got a good range...Landscapes, horses, portraits… horses... current events… horses…”

“Lots of horses.”

“Yeah, he was kind of a horse girl.” 

You finally sent the email off and turned to look at Agent Marcus Pike. The man was, mercifully, still looking at the recreation of the Géricault painting. 

“This one of your old ones?” He asked. You laughed a little, leaning against the lectern. 

“No. I’ve got a friend in Atlanta that specializes in recreations of Delacroix and Géricault.” 

“He’s talented. I’ve seen the original, this is… Incredible.” 

“Mm, I know. The corpses almost look happy in this version.”

Pike’s brow rose and he gave you a look out of the corner of his eye.

“So?” You asked, “How can I aid the bureau today, Agent Pike?” 

He gave a small smile, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck as he turned to face you more fully.

“I’m actually not here on bureau business,” he told you, peering at you nervously. Your brows rose. You’d never seen Agent Pike look anything less than collected, even in the thick of a case. 

“You’ve got my attention,” You reassured him. 

--

You were trying so hard not to laugh, if not for the earnest look on Pike’s face. You watched him as you ran your finger along the handle of your coffee mug. The two of you had taken up residence at your favorite coffee shop and bakery, There Ain’t Muffin To It. It was a little out of the way of the college’s campus, but you preferred that - you hardly ever ran into your students that way.

Pike had insisted on paying for your coffee, and then he’d explained his… Situation. 

His fucking hilarious situation that you were really, really trying not to laugh at. 

“So…Just-- To make sure I’m on the level here,” You said, “Your sister Marnie is getting married in two weeks, and she was probably going to set you up with some cute hometown girl, and instead…” You had to pause, biting your lip to tamp down a laugh before going on, “Instead, you told her that you’re bringing… Me.” 

“That is the long and short of it.”

“And can I ask what possessed you to blurt out the name of an ex-fencer-turned-art-professor?” 

“I panicked and I was looking at the Coleman file.”

“Ah,” You nodded. You’d assisted Pike’s team on that case. A man named Augustus Coleman had recently come forward, claiming to have found Oudry’s White Duck. The work had, in fact, been a fake (though it was a very, very convincing one). You’d spent time with Agent Pike, looking over the painting itself and helping his team track down Coleman’s forger. It had been a lot of long nights, a lot of hard work, but Pike had given you implicit trust, and you’d gotten the job done. 

And now, apparently, he was trusting you with this, too. 

“I don’t… Lie well,” Marcus added, and you couldn’t help but laugh then. 

“I can see that.”

Marcus smiled, “I know this is an inconvenience. I wouldn’t ask you to fly down for the week I’m gonna be there--”

“But you’d want to?” 

Marcus winced, “My sister’s already passed your name on to my mom and I’m getting questions. You could just come in for the weekend. I’d pay for your airfare,” He tacked on. 

“Wow, you are desperate.” 

“What you said, about my sister setting me up with some-- hometown girl? It’s accurate, I’m pretty sure I know exactly who she would’ve tried to set me up with.”

“Bad?”

“No, she’s nice, but we don’t suit and Marnie hasn’t quite gotten that message.” 

Your brow furrowed, considered something. 

“Tell me something,” You leaned forward on your forearms, watching Marcus.

“Sure.”

“You could've found someone else to bring along, asked them to use my name and fake it to your family for two days. You’re actually asking me instead. Why?” 

Marcus’ eyes searched your face.

“Couple of reasons. Remember a minute ago when I said I was bad about lying?” 

You chuckled, “Uh-huh. The other reason?” 

“I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.”

“And someone that can lie?” 

“Exactly. See what you just said, about asking someone else to use your name? Didn’t even occur to me.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering Pike. The week that he’d named for the wedding was spring break-- you didn’t have any plans set in stone, just papers to grade. 

“...Can I think about it?” You asked. Marcus’ smile brightened at that. 

“Of course,” He nodded, “I appreciate it.” 

You believed that-- the man couldn’t lie for shit. 

-- 

That evening found you in your apartment, grading quizzes for your Intro to Greek and Roman Art course. Most of the students had a good handle on the subject, so the grading and corrections didn’t take you long. Once you’d finished, you poured yourself a glass of wine and settled down on your couch to find something to watch for the evening. 

Once you’d chosen a show, though, you really couldn’t focus on it. You had, after all, told Marcus that you’d consider his proposal. You were...Fond of Agent Pike. The agents that you’d worked with prior to his transfer to the D.C. office had all treated you with varying degrees of contempt when asking for your help on a given case; they’d kept your interactions to the barest of bare minimums, held you at arm’s length in regards to the cases that you were being asked to assist on, and hardly ever updated you on case outcomes - not that they were required to do so, but you had often wondered. Marcus Pike was so different from his predecessors. When he’d come to the D.C. office and had first needed your help on a case, he’d gone out of his way to introduce himself, the particulars of the case, and to say that, “any assistance that you could provide would be greatly appreciated.” And it hadn’t felt glib, either. You’d felt like the man actually wanted your help, wasn’t that he was just reaching out to you to cover his bases. You’d assumed that after that first case, the niceties would fall away, but Marcus had never been anything less than kind to you - even when he was stressed. He treated you with respect, understood that your time was your own, that you’d put your criminal past behind you. You were now using what you’d learned in that world to help the Bureau, and to teach.

The time you’d spent with him on the Coleman case had been the biggest eye-opener. He’d come to understand more about how you used to operate - the way you’d sold forgeries to money-grubbing, self-involved wealthy elites that cared more about owning a one-of-a-kind artwork, uncaring of where it had come from or why you had it; they hadn’t cared about the questionable and fake provenance, had only looked so close when examining the work itself. Your grandmother had been a painter, and a masterful forger - she had been the one to paint most of the forgeries that you’d helped to fence. She had taught you her tricks, connected you with the network that she operated within - she had gotten you arrested, and had been furious when you hadn’t taken the fall for her. You and Marcus had spent a lot of time together during the Coleman case - mostly working, but you’d had some downtime. There were times when he insisted that you sat down and ate, else the food would get cold. Others, when he had a question, he’d come to your office at the college, but he’d bring coffee with him, or some kind of snack - a little way of showing thanks before he even asked his question, even if you didn’t have an answer for him. Marcus was a good man. It was no wonder he needed help lying, especially to his family. Something he’d said to you that afternoon had stuck with you, though, something that was floating above the rest: “I need to go down there with someone that I trust. Someone that I know will have my back.” Marcus Pike trusted you. He was comfortable with you having his back - he was comfortable with you being around his family for a week. 

You picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts to find Marcus’. You hit the ‘call’ button before raising it to your ear. He picked up on the first ring. “Hello?” He asked, and you smiled at the anticipatory tone. “Think they’ve still got any seats left on your flight?” You asked. Tag list: @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​​ ; @spideysimpossiblegirl​​ ; @blueeyesatnight​​ ; @elen-aranel​​ ; @yespolkadotkitty​​ ; @artsymaddie​​ ; @phoenixhalliwell​​ ; @lunaserenade​​ ; @winniedaboo ; @empress-palpat1ne​​ ; @randomness501​ ; @nutmeg-20 ; @leonieb​

[snailor-bee]

My Bee-Loved

Okay so this is shamelessly self-indulgent. 👉👈 My first ever self-insert! Mostly done because I was stressed coming home from work one day and this came to me on the drive home. Written for @oplovelikeyou for the "Party" prompt but I hardly used it, whoops.

Whitebeard x F!S/I / SFW  / 2.5k Summary: Parties were never her thing and in a bad mood even less so. Warnings: Take a bath together at the end so like, a suggestion of nudity but nothing is ever mentioned. Also some brief discussion of anxiety/depression medication.

Art by@aifozu

Dark brown eyes scanned the deck observing the beginnings of what would surely turn into another loud and rambunctious party. The Whitebeard Pirates never shied away from celebrating. Any minor occasion warranted a gathering, the only exceptions were a battle. And even then, most were defeated so quickly they just got right back into the swing of things.

Lips closed around a straw and fruity alcohol exploded across her tongue. Thatch had found her quickly to proudly hand over a drink he'd personally made. She wasn't really into the different types of beer and sake that flowed freely during these events. She had thanked him profusely but when he offered to make her more throughout the night, she refused.

Today hadn't been...the best. Nothing substantial or anything that really stuck out as to why. Just a cloud of general discontent and depression had been following her around. Luckily, she had been busy enough that she wasn't able to talk to anyone for very long. Thus her bad mood hadn't been picked up on. However, if she spent too long at this party that would quickly change.

Everyone was hitting the alcohol hard, as was standard at the beginning of all parties. Once everyone got a pleasant buzz going, they'd separate out and she would get caught in numerous conversations. Her eyes glazed over as she stared unseeing at nothing. The night stretched out before her with dizzying accuracy. Either she'd drink too much and get pissy, thus concerning those around her. Or not drink and try to fake her way through enough conversations it would wear her out and someone would pick up on her bad mood eventually anyways or—

A booming laugh shook the deck beneath her feet and her eyes shot over to see Whitebeard throw his head back as he laughed at some joke or story. Or, she reflected, Edward would catch her eye, motion her over, and immediately pick up on her mood regardless of whether she tried to fake it or not.

They hadn't been dating long and it still boggled her mind that he was dating her of all people. Before she had time to reminisce, Edward caught her eye and smiled. She instinctively smiled back before one of his sons caught his attention and she sighed once he looked away. Best to slip away now then, before he actually did call her over. Parties were never her thing, but especially not in her sour mood. Setting the empty cup down on a nearby barrel as she passed, she weaved her way in and out of the crowd. As she left the deck behind, the noise of the party slowly dwindled away.

Still, as she wandered around a mostly empty ship, she wondered where to go. Although she used to have a rack in the women's dorms, ever since she moved into Edward's room she was pretty sure they were using it for someone else.

Pressing a finger to her bottom lip, she chewed on it as she debated with herself. Thinking through some options she quickly discarded them before one stood out. She shrugged. That ought to work.

Crawling into the small space that held the rigging, the smell of damp rope filled her nose. She was careful, any length of the line could hold hidden fishhooks or other sharp edges that had gotten caught. Laying down and not having anything prod at her, she curled into herself, shoving her hands between her thighs. It wasn't very comfortable and water seeped into her clothes. The rotting smell of wet wood mixed with rope was unpleasant, but the rigging was also covered in salt and sand from the sea, which grated on her skin. Still, it was better than dealing with others so she settled down as best she could.

Something was shaking her foot and automatically she kicked out. A sharp yelp woke her up enough to sit up quickly. It was dark down here, but Ace held up one hand that was aflame and she squinted in the sudden light.

"What the hell was that?!" He accused, rubbing his jaw with his other hand. She glared.

"What are you doing here?"

"Pops wants you," Ace answered, with no small amount of attitude in his voice.

She frowned. "Okay? I'll be right here." They both waited. Neither moved. She raised a brow. "Well?"

"Nuh-uh, I'm not leavin' until you do."

"It's really fine Ace you don't have to wait—"

Ace grinned, large and shit-eating. "Pops said," his voice was smug, "that I should escort you." A flush rose on her cheeks.

"I don't need to be babied." Especially not by someone younger than me, she thought with a scowl.

Ace hummed with satisfaction, the dick. "Too bad! Let's go!"

In the end, she didn't have much of a choice. Ace was stubborn and if Edward had really sent him after her, he wouldn't let it go. Annoyance pulsed at her temples. That was the worst thing about being out at sea. Stuck on the same ship, with the same people, day after day; there was nowhere to go. Any good hiding spots weren't worth much when most commanders could simply sense her using haki.

She recognized the path they were taking as the way to Edward's room. Or well, their room, she figured. Maybe she could just go to sleep before he came in. He'd be up late partying with the crew. She hadn't wanted to sleep in the room because the large bed that smelt so overwhelmingly like him was always so lonely without him in it. She always ended up tossing and turning until he came in anyways, so why bother?

Ace gave her a cheeky salute as they arrived at the door before he walked away and she flipped off his retreating back as she opened the door. Stepping inside, she faltered when she saw Edward already in the room sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her. Although she was a little nervous as to why he was here, it did make a small part of her happy that he had at least noticed she was gone.

He smiled as she slowly closed the door. They were both quiet for a moment, as she tried to figure out what to say.

"You've been avoiding me, my dear," Edward said, voice gentle. She licked her lips.

"Just not in a good mood. I didn't want to be bitchy at you for no reason. Why are you in bed already?"

Edward gestured at her and she came a bit closer but still kept herself out of reach. "Little Bee, you could have just said something." She sighed aggressively.

"I didn't want to talk about it. There's nothing to talk about." Edward hummed as she folded her arms.

"Come here?" He asked and she tapped her foot.

"I'm fine."

Edward's eyes twinkled with mischief and she glared suspiciously. Quicker than she could react, he leaned forward and one large hand shot out to wrap around her waist. Bee shrieked as he pulled her against his chest with a laugh.

"Gotcha," he said with a large grin. "You reek," Edward commented idly. She tensed and drew back.

"I do not!" She denied immediately looking up at his face. "What do I smell like?!"

"Where were you hiding at?" He asked casually and she froze. Ah, maybe she did smell then.

"I can change," Bee mumbled out.

"Gurararara! So you do admit that you smell huh? Why don't you tell me?" Edward nuzzled against her head, placing a kiss at a temple. She grumbled under her breath. "Worried I'll go chasing after you next time?" He asked with a smile as he sat back. He was clearly messing with her. Obviously, her spot was already discovered regardless if she told him right now or not. He'd just find out from Ace.

"The rigging," she admitted finally.

"I see. Well lucky for you I won't go crawling around in there for you. Let's take a bath huh?" Without waiting for a response he lifted her and stood. She huffed loudly as he left their room behind.

"Why would you? You can just send in a loyal minion to get me." Edward laughed.

"That's true! Why bother eh?"

Bee didn't answer as they headed to the baths. Her brow furrowed. "Why don't we just shower? Or I can shower. We can't both be in the bath."

Edward chuckled. "I'm the Captain of this ship and I'll do as I damn please." She frowned.

"We can't just take up the whole bath just for the two of us!" The large baths were for the entire crew. Men and women had different time slots carved out. Bee wasn't sure whose time slot it was, but she was willing to bet that Edward planned on kicking everyone out so the two of them could sit in the massive baths. Although there probably wouldn't be many, with the party going on. However, there was usually at least a person or two at the very least.

"Eddie!" She complained loudly as they went through the first door. Edward leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek while she pouted. He wasn't going to butter her up that easily. Still, while she was expecting him to go through the male changing rooms, instead he passed it and went to a door she'd never seen opened before. Brows raised in surprise, she watched as he dug around with his other hand in his pocket before withdrawing a key. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside and flicked on the light while he brought her down to the floor.

"Undress, scrub down then come out," he ordered with a pat on her head before he disappeared into the next room. Bee stuck her tongue out as he passed and he grinned. The ordering tone was an annoyance but she let it go as she looked around. It was a very similar design to the washing area in the main baths but obviously made for Edward in mind, the room large enough for his bulk. Stripping quickly, she scrubbed and rinsed the suds off before she followed after where Edward had gone.

Stepping inside, she gasped. It was a bath, already steaming, large as a pool. Edward chuckled at her expression as he sat already in the water, arms outspread against the edge.

"Careful dear, you'll catch flies." Bee clicked her mouth shut.

"You have your own private bath?!"

"I do," he agreed. "Captain and all that."

"Why didn't you mention it??" She demanded as she lowered herself into the water with a hiss. It was hot. Edward leaned forward reaching out to grab for her but she slapped at his hands and he pulled back slightly. The heat was almost unbearable and he'd want to cuddle her. She'd like to get used to the temperature before that.

"Eh, I was saving it for a surprise. Candles, rose petals, all that. Women like that kind of crap don't they?" Eddie laughed at the scowl on her face. His casual sexism at times grated at her. Not allowing women to fight, only having female nurses, the list went on and on. Edward was a charming lover and never treated her badly but some of the opinions he had bugged at her. Still, at least he was willing to listen in some aspects. The male nurse conversation had gone well, once he sat down to listen. The women not fighting he hadn't budged on, but the reasoning was more of a father feeling protective towards his daughters, rather than a belief they shouldn't fight at all. Why else would he allow Whitney Bay to remain on his fleet? So Bee had let that one go.

Larges hands gently grabbing her sides broke her from her thoughts as Edward tugged her towards him. She let her body go pliant as he laid further back and pulled her onto his chest. Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, she sighed with contentment. The heat of the water felt nice.

"Want to talk about it?" He asked into the lazy quiet and she tensed.

"I already told you it was nothing, Eddie."

"Do you need medication? You could talk to Marco." Bee pulled back with a frown.

"I don't need meds!" Her voice echoed around them and she flinched at the volume. Lowering her voice, she tried again. "It's not...I know you don't get it, the depression and anxiety thing. But I'm really fine. I don't mind taking them if I need it, but I'm not so bad that I need the help right now."

"Got a little sensitive there though," Edward pointed out as he stroked her head with a finger. Bee rolled her eyes.

"That's because I'm offended you think I need medicine after one bad day. You wouldn't ask me if I didn't have a history of it to begin with."

Edward hummed with acknowledgment. "Suppose that's true. Just don't like seeing you in a bad mood, little Bee." The softness in his voice calmed her down slightly. He was being earnest.

"You have bad days, sometimes.” It was true. Edward had days where the pain was sharper than others. Days where the pain medicine felt like it did nothing to help. On those days he drank more, enough to cause concern among not only his nurses but his sons as well. As if the numbing of the alcohol would help to some extent. It never did.

Eddie smiled down at her. The water splashed, water lapping at the edges of the bath, as his arm rose and he brought one massive hand to cradle the side of her head.

“Ah, well fair enough.” A thumb stroked her cheek gently. He always had to be so careful around her. It sometimes astounded her; how soft he was with her. Although loving and caring with his family, he had a gruff side that Bee was also familiar with. She saw how he sometimes spoke to his sons or in casual interactions with others. Edward had a way of being blunt. Confident in who he was and what he wanted, it boiled into a straightforwardness that could sometimes be a hair too sharp for her tastes. Before they began dating, she had been grateful he never seemed to turn that sharpness towards the women.

After they got together, some part of her was…worried about it. That the dynamic would break any walls he kept around himself that kept his tongue in check. That never ended up happening, instead dating brought out another side of softness she hadn’t been expecting but reveled in all the same.

Closing her eyes she sank deeper into the water as his other hand came up to hold her in place so she wouldn’t slip too far down into the water. Her eyes started drooping, as sleep began to tug at her. Water splashed again as he moved. Lips brushed against hers, the sting of his mustache comforting in its familiarity. She reached out and brushed a hand across his cheek as he pulled away and settled back.

His chest rumbled, rattling her perch on his chest slightly as she cushioned her cheek against his skin, closing her eyes.

“Love you little Bee,” Eddie said lowly, a smile evident in his voice.

“Love you too,” she mumbled back, already half asleep.

[yourlocalfictionalenthusiast]

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART THREE

Part One, Part Two

Warnings: just some swearing

May 1995

“We’re totally gonna get a record deal!”

Luke said for the tenth time in the past hour as he bounced in his seat.

It was Friday night and normally, you would all be messing around at the park, the beach, or just watching a movie in the studio. But when your phone rang and it was the booking manager for the Orpheum telling you that Sunset Curve is officially the new opener next month, the boys insisted on being there the second your shift at the diner was over.

So instead of arguing about having another Star Wars marathon or playing at the pier, you were all packed in your regular booth at Cece’s for celebratory milkshakes. You sat on the very edge of the booth, practically falling asleep on Alex. Ever since you got the call that morning, every cell in your body felt supercharged with excitement.

But now that the day was coming to an end, you could hardly stay awake enough to pay attention to the conversation.

Bobby, who was in your usual spot, pinched Luke’s arm. “Don’t jinx it, dude.”

“It’s not jinxing if you know for sure.” Luke said. “I mean, we’re awesome! And we’ve worked so hard to get to this point. It’s all gonna pay off.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you were still nervous. There was nothing you were prouder of than your music, and you knew that a crowd that big would be good for gaining a lot of new fans. But the idea of that many people seeing you perform and hearing your lyrics was nerve-wracking.

You could tell the others felt the same way. Bobby was biting his nails, Alex was bouncing his leg so hard it almost hit the table and Reggie was slumped against the wall. Luke just stared at all of you, his bright smile never fading.

He snapped his fingers so loud that you jumped at the noise, then he started digging in his pockets. “I know what’ll cheer you guys up.”

Luke pulled out a safety pin, then brought its point down into the table, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. After a few minutes, he brushed off the table and presented his design proudly. It was four words in huge slanted letters.

‘SUNSET CURVE WAS HERE’

“Seriously, Luke?” Alex said, his eyes wide. “Cece’s gonna kill you!”

Luke just smirked and handed him the pin, gesturing to the space under the words. “‘C’mon, man. You’re up first.”

It took a lot of convincing, but Alex eventually gave in, and one by one, you all signed your names.

‘Alex,

Bobby

Reggie

Luke

(Y/N)’

You heard the sound of Cece’s heels hitting the floor as she exited the kitchen. Panicking, you shoved the pin in your pocket just in time as she came up to the table. 

Before she could even see that anything was different, Reggie pointed at Luke.

“He did it!”

Cece frowned before inspecting the table, letting out a deep sigh and putting her hands on her hips.

“Are you vandalizing my diner, Patterson?”

Luke paled. “It was a group effort.”

“But it was your idea,” Alex said with a smirk, no doubt trying to pin the blame on Luke to keep his spot as Cece’s favorite. You had to bury your head into his shoulder to contain your laughter.

You could tell from the way that she was struggling to keep a straight face that Cece wasn’t actually mad but you weren’t gonna tell Luke that. He tried to kick Alex’s leg under the table but he hit yours instead. You hissed in pain and Luke paled even further.

“Shit, sorry, (Y/n).”

“And abusing my staff?” Cece joked, shaking her head.

Luke flashed her a charming smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Cece. Just got a little excited.”

“I can see that.” She laughed then turned to you. “Hey. Get up. I got you something.”

You looked up at her in confusion but she didn’t offer you any answer as you dragged yourself up. Cece pulled a small blue box out from behind her back and handed it to you. “What’s the occasion?”

Cece rolled her eyes. “Just open it.” 

The first thing you saw was a folded piece of paper with your name on it, under it was a silver key. You picked it up and held it in between your fingers as you carefully unfolded the paper to see three words in Cece’s careful handwriting.

just in case

You looked up at her, eyebrows knitted together. “Cece?”

She just winked as she put her hand on your cheek. “Honey, you know that I couldn’t have more faith in you and your rockstar dreams. But just in case things don’t work out...well, I couldn’t imagine giving this place to anyone else.”

You flew into her arms and hugged her so tight it was a little painful. Of course, all you wanted was for Sunset Curve to get signed to a label and take over the world. But this place was like home to you and the idea of owning it some day made your heart swell. “Thank you!”

The booth erupted in cheers and Cece playfully glared at them as she tucked you under her arm. “But you have to promise you’ll keep these boys of yours from doing any more damage to the property.”

Bobby scoffed. “Hey, we’re not-”

You slapped your hand over his mouth before nodding at Cece. “I’ll try my best.”

The bell on the door jingled to announce the arrival of another customer, and Cece left to greet them. You twirled the key around in your hand and looked at the boys' smiling faces, unable to hide your own.

As you settled back in the booth and took a sip of your milkshake, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was coming together.

2020

L.A was somehow so different, yet exactly the way you remembered.

The way the bright lights flooded the streets, to the way that every surface you see was decorated with a piece of art, made you anxious to re-explore the city you loved so much. 

You couldn’t help but stare through your swinging legs at the crowds walking around below, listening to the soft buzzing of the Orpheum’s sign above your head.

An hour ago when Luke had suggested walking around the city, you figured you would end up here eventually. But now that you were actually here, you couldn’t help the hollow feeling that settled in your stomach.

It must’ve shown on your face because Luke launched into one of his motivational speeches. “C’mon, guys. I know being dead wasn’t our first choice. But you gotta admit, it is easier to get around.”

Reggie pouted. “Easy for you maybe. I lost my shirt on that one.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he was shirtless until it reappeared in a flash and he sighed in relief.

“So, why did you bring us here?” Alex asked Luke. “Just another painful reminder of where we never got to play?”

You smiled sarcastically. “Yeah, thanks, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Because, we’re not done yet!”

He slung his arm around Alex’s shoulder, and gripped yours as he poofed you all down to the sidewalk, pulling away from you as fast as possible once your feet were back on the ground.

“I’m telling you.” Luke said. “We’ve been given a second chance. Let’s go see how many clubs we can hit before sunrise!”

He started walking down the street and Reggie was quick to follow, leaving you and Alex behind. As you watched them skip down the sidewalk, Alex let out a sharp ‘hey!’ and you whipped around to see him rubbing his shoulder.

A man in a long black suit stared straight into your eyes before tipping his hat to Alex and disappearing down the street. Every hair on your body stood on end as you stared at the spot where he was just standing.

“That was weird.” You said, turning to Alex. “You okay?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You could hear Luke and Reggie’s excited shouting as they ran down the street, but you and Alex kept your distance. He reached his arm out to you and you took it automatically.

Over the last six months, Alex had become your best friend. You had always been close but last summer when things got bad with his parents, he turned to you.

And when things started to get weird between you and Luke or you had a fight with your mom, Alex was the only one you wanted to talk to. 

“Alright.” Alex sighed. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“I know you’re dying to talk about Luke.”

“I am not!”

Alex raised his eyebrows, clearly not convinced.

“Besides, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing-” He took in a sharp breath. “(Y/n), for someone so smart, you’re acting like a dumbass.”

You put a hand on your chest, dramatically gasping. “Alexander Mercer! I had no idea you were capable of using that kind of language.”

He flashed you his middle finger before unlocking his arm from yours and pulling you into his side. “Seriously though. What’s rolling around up there?”

You were quiet for a few minutes as you rested your head on his shoulder. “I just want to know what I did, you know?” 

Alex nodded, but didn’t say anything, as he knew that you were just getting started.

“I mean, he’s always been there. He's always been my person. The one who I could count on for anything. Then that night in the studio, I thought…” 

You trailed off and Alex held you a little tighter. Even though he wasn’t there, he could probably describe that night in exact detail from the amount of times you had told him about it. “I just miss him."

“Yeah, I know.” Alex said, his eyes glued to Luke’s back. “But, hey, you know that he loves you, and that didn’t change because of one night.”

He started to say something else but cut himself off as he saw Reggie and Luke approaching, both with big, goofy smiles. Reggie took your arm that wasn’t around Alex’s back and locked it in his.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked.

“Nothing!” You said way too fast, cringing to yourself as you dragged Reggie down the sidewalk. “Come on, Reg. Let’s go see if that old comic book shop is still around.”

As the night wore on, you became more and more thankful that you weren’t able to get tired.

You spent the whole night sneaking into concert venues, clubs, and pretty much any place you wanted now that there was no chance of getting caught. It wasn’t until you passed a small street-side café that you let yourself think about the one place you hadn’t been yet.

Cece’s Diner.

When Julie told you it had been 25 years, you assumed that it had closed down. That Cece had moved away. Maybe even reconnected with her son and lived out her life. It seemed like such a perfect thought that you didn’t want to ruin it with reality. 

But now that you had seen the way things had changed in the time you had been gone, you were now filled with a sense of urgency. You launched up the sidewalk until you were in front of the boys.

“Hey, guys?” You asked. They all stared at you curiously as a smile slowly spread across your face. “Anyone up for milkshakes?”

-

When you walked up to the diner - for only an instant - it was as if no time had passed. You felt the urge to run inside, throw your hair up in a ponytail, and make a beeline for the kitchen before you got in trouble for being late for your shift. 

Only as you got closer, you realized how much had changed. The building, which had always been a little ordinary and worn like a well-loved home, now felt about twenty stories tall. You dragged yourself forward toward the door, unable to look away.

The boys lingered behind you, but no one said a word. 

Your hand reached for the doorknob before you remembered that you wouldn’t actually be able to touch it.

I really gotta get used to that, you mumbled to yourself as you walked through the door.

It looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize it.

The bright blue paint had been replaced with brown on every wall, bookshelves lined the corners of the room, and long leather couches had replaced the booths and tables. The old jukebox had disappeared, and some old jazz song was playing over speakers over your head.

“Can I help you?” 

A voice asked from behind the counter. It was a boy that looked a little older than you, messy black hair and an uninterested smile. He dragged a blue pen across the margins of a book as he waited for your answer.

“You can see us?” Alex asked, to which the boy rolled his eyes.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” He said, raising his eyebrows when you all failed to answer either of his questions.

“My, my. Aren’t we chatty.”

“Who are you, exactly?” You said, trying to mask your annoyance with a smile.

“Teddy.” He said, pushing himself off the counter and making his way around until he stopped just a few feet ahead of you. “And you’re (Y/n).”

A shiver ran down your spine. “How do you know that?”

“You were a friend of my grandma’s.”

Before you could ask what the hell he meant by that, a man came walking out of the kitchen. He looked so much like Cece that it made your stomach flip. It was her son.

And as you looked back at Teddy, your mind slowly connected the dots. “You’re Cece’s grandson?”

He nodded.

“Okay, this is just too weird.” You said as you rubbed your temples. There was no way that this was actually happening, right? Maybe you somehow fell asleep and are having some weird ghost dream. 

“Okay, well I definitely feel old.” Alex sighed.

Your head was spinning. “What is even happening right now.”

Teddy smiled. “Well, it’s too bad we’re dead or else I would buy you coffee and explain it to you.”

You internally cringed at his pick-up line but you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Normally, random guys flirting with you made you uncomfortable but behind his cocky attitude, he seemed like a genuine guy.

Maybe it was the way that he twirled his pen between his fingers the way that Cece used to, but something told you that there was more to him than meets the eye.

Before you could answer, Luke spoke up. “Well, it was nice meeting you. But we really should be getting back home.”

You could see that he was right as the pale light came in through the windows as the sky started to lighten.

But you couldn’t help but notice that this was the first time he had interjected in the conversation since you got there, and a small part of you wondered if that had anything to do with the way that Teddy was staring at you.

You shook those thoughts from your head, giving Teddy a soft smile.

“Maybe next time.”

Though you weren’t capable of getting cold, you still shivered a little as you walked through the door and back out onto the street. You could feel Luke’s eyes on the side of your face, flickering down to the sidewalk when he saw you looking.

You gave him a light nudge on the shoulder, and he gave you a soft smile that you couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind.

That was pretty much all you got from Luke these days.

“So,” Luke said, his enthusiasm returning in full force as he threw his arms over Alex and Reggie’s shoulders. “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially back in business.”

-

The second that you landed in the studio, your jaw dropped.

Julie was sitting at the piano, her voice shaky but full of passion as she belted out the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard. Her fingers hit the keys expertly and you smiled.

You closed your eyes, listening to her voice echo through the room and getting lost in the warm feeling the lyrics filled you with. It wasn’t until she stopped singing and sniffled quietly that your heart dropped.

Both you and Alex surged forward to comfort her but Luke shook his head and swirled his finger, signaling to meet up outside. You wanted to protest. To stay and comfort your new friend.

But Julie sniffled again and you thought that maybe it would be a good idea to give her space. You made a mental note to talk to her later and poofed out of the garage.

-

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13

Let me know if you want to be added!

[demonslayedher]

Love Breathing Not Fully Bloomed: A Kanroji Mitsuri Meta

Some thoughts that have been brewing since we got a deeper look at the birth of the Breath of Love in the Rengoku Gaiden, boiling down to that Mitsuri had not yet reached her full potential.

SPOILERS AHEAD~!

While we don't have any reliable timeline for this series, we know that Mitsuri has been practicing swordsmanship for only about two years, likely less. The "two years ago" stated in her flashback to her failed engagement was back when she was 17, so let's be generous and say that was 2.5 years ago. But, we must also keep in mind that she's been a Pillar for at least several months by the time Swordsmith Village arc takes place. The Pillar meeting Tanjiro met her at was possibly her first of the twice-a-year meetings, but I wouldn't put it anywhere beyond her second. After the failed marriage discussion she would have spent some unknown period of time dying her hair and starving herself, before deciding to join the Demon Slayers. She accomplished her Flame Breathing training under Rengoku in six months, roughly half the time most Breath users train under their cultivators. Tokito is noted for becoming a Pillar in two months after taking up the sword, but Mitsuri probably stumbled her way into Pillarhood within months of passing the Final Selection; making the Kamaboko squad's quick ascension up the ranks look like nothing as she blows away the usual five years it takes someone to become a Pillar (or if they are especially skilled, more like two years, as stated by Gotouge in Taisho Secrets). While the way of swordsmanship and battle became Mitsuri’s everyday way of life, thereby leading to huge improvements, that's a really short time to develop actual battlefield experience. Among the Pillars, she is the least seasoned or naturally inclined for battle, it really is by accident of her bizarre strength that she’s gotten so far. That's hardly surprising, given her background and motives. For context, her interests are very domestic what with all the pet-keeping (four cats, a rabbit, and a whole hive of bees, by my count) and sweets and recipes, and her stated hometown would have been in the heart of developing city culture, with shopping and restaurants and movie theaters. There would have been no exposure to swords and the culture that goes with them, making her justifiably embarrassed of how monstrously her strength makes her stick out. Her inability to fit into a normal family life makes her feel worthless, even if she does have a base of love and support. (*Put a pin in these things, I'll be drawing a comparison to another character later.*) However it was that she was introduced to the Corp, it must have taken a huge leap of hope and/or desperation to leave the otherwise comfortable lifestyle for a life of battle. While Rengoku's home is not terribly far from hers, it still would have been a total break from the life she knew before, so she must had been betting everything on both her ultimate wishes; living in accordance with who she is, and finding a husband. Let's refer to these respectively as Wish A and Wish B. Note that "becoming a strong swordsman" and "elimating demons" are not among these goals; they are merely means to her goals. Now if we try to to follow her path as a swordsman chronologically, six months since taking up the sword under Rengoku, she's passed the Final Selection. On a mission with Rengoku, who now treats her as a peer, she's nonetheless filled with shame that she hasn't really picked up much skill and just waves her sword around with brute strength. 

I love this bit of characterization because that is so, so easy a trap to fall into with martial arts. Even if you understand things in theory and do your best on proper form when taking things slowly, all of that very easily goes out the window when you're using them in the heat of the moment. The less experience you have, the far more likely one is to do this. Falling back on just throwing a punch as hard as you can instead of throwing a good punch makes Mitsuri so, so, so relatable. She is a normal girl with abnormal strength, not a battle genius. Like us normal people, and even like Tanjiro, she can only improve her battle sense with experience. This puts her in a very different situation than the other Pillars, who she meets either when they are very experienced, or when they are outright geniuses. This gives her a different sense of shame, which we'll come back to. While feeling ashamed that she can't live up to Rengoku's teaching, her fighting suffers with this lack of self-confidence (which, again, makes her very relatable because this is applicable to just about all of us normal people), and she only realizes the Breath technique when applying it through her own unique emotion-driven fighting style. While she goes on to name this Breath after Wish B (given that this is a romantic version of "Love"), it's powered more by a philanthropic love, realized only when she is protecting other people. This becomes a newly discovered third wish, as well as a source of confidence.

In the side story novels, Mitsuri later on suffers another blow to her confidence which compromises her fighting and makes her fall back into wanting to hide herself, for she is ashamed of how her motives compare to Shinobu's. Besides Shinobu's encouragement and giving Mitsuri a venue in which to openly express her love and appreciation for other people, another child whom Mitsuri has rescued looks up to her and says a few things to restore her confidence. Getting that feedback and being able to express herself openly (Wish A) is the cycle that powers Mitsuri's confidence and keeps her ultimate weakness, shame, at bay. This, combined with words of encouragement from Ubuyashiki and Rengoku, is what really empowers her to embrace her unusual constitution and develop the Breath of Love. While it's said that this is an offshoot of the Flame Breathing she's formally trained in, it's more of a stretch than the relationship between something like Snake Breathing stemming from Water Breathing, and more like she's hit at the basis of Breathing itself to create a technique suited to her, like Inosuke did with his entirely self-taught Beast Breathing. (*Put a pin in this self-created Breath style thing, we're going to come back to this too.*) So, Mitsuri went on to become the Love Pillar. With the rate at which Pillars cycle in and out (based on how many the Upper Moons claim to have killed), I have to wonder how fast the Lower Moons getting cycled in and out too.  Even though these are her peers and we never see any other Pillars looking down on her, she sees herself in a lower position than the rest of them. Case in point, one thing I love that the anime did is that when Tokito chips the rock at Tanjiro and tells him off, Mitsuri is silently fangirling, and then when Tokito orders the Kakushi to draw back/leave, Mitsuri silently and automatically obeys and shrinks back. That wasn’t directed at you, silly!

Though her Breath requires confidence, she still has a ways to go. When we see her again later, she's in a position of being a protector to everyone around her; the swordsmiths and her juniors, and she's treated with the awe and respect and acceptance of a Pillar; in this kind of setting she is fully in accord with Wish A (reinforced by her less formal third wish) and, thanks to Shinobu's encouragement, not ashamed of Wish B, thereby eliminating a big part of her shame-based weakness. She's added all this power and just as importantly, experience to her preexisting raw strength and flexibility.

The experience is key here; she's gained a lot of battle sense since her first mission. She's not as taken off guard by demon abilities, and with her risen confidence, she's also gained more flexible thinking and can make quick adjustments in battle as needed. 

Not entirely, though. At her core, she still relies on that brute strength.

Ultimately, though toward the end she thinks she might be overpowered after all, it's that boost of confidence and cycle of philanthropic love from her juniors and desire to protect them than she recovers and makes use of her mark. (I'm glad no one's told her that this means she's doomed to a short marriage, should she ever even get one.)

Following this historic feat; acting in a way that is natural to her and to her Breath to unlock a mark she didn't even know existed, she still feels a little shamed among the other Pillars for being so shamefully inarticulate about battle technique; despite this being what she's dedicated her life to. Again, it was never her natural desire to be a fighter, so it’s unsurprising that this part doesn’t come as naturally to her as it does to all those geniuses in the room.

Moving on to the battle with Nakime, this is mostly played for laughs because Mitsuri's lack of battle sense compared to other characters is put on full display. She's emotional from the get-go and easily overwhelmed and this affects her concentration drastically, leading to stupid mistakes and ultimately having to fall back on her brute strength to break through pieces of the fortress instead of survive and fight through observation. Getting called out on this is meant to help her, and she absolutely does her best to summon back her battle sense, but it's all downhill for Mitsuri and her Love Breathing technique from here.

As the battle with Muzan starts, that third wish is thrown back in her face as so many of her juniors die protecting her. Since he's powered by philanthropic love and confidence, she cannot recover any battle sense, and quickly falters so much that she must be removed from the battle rather than weigh everyone down. The difference between her and the other Pillars here is stark; her inexperience and lack of natural fighting inclination is, again, painfully obvious and relatable to a lot of readers. She has natural strength, but not natural talent. When she does return to battle, she only has that core strength to rely on again--no room for peace of mind, only brute emotional strength resulting in a panel that made me throw my fist in the air and cheer out loud because damn, that is hardcore, girl.

But, in the end, Mitsuri succumbs to her injuries, and only right before death does she get closer to Wish B. Even with Iguro's promise, it's too late.

This is super frustrating for a number of reasons, but if we're focused solely on the actualization of Love Breathing, it's because Iguro could have said something much, much, much sooner if he wasn't so ashamed of his own blood tainting her in this lifetime (not that she would have cared). Words from other people have such a huge influence on Mitsuri that if she had actualized Wish B, for which her Breath is named, she could have made humongous gains in confidence before being romantically loved, and having someone to openly shower in love. Imagine what she could have unlocked, if that shame she still carried for being too monstrous to be married could have been eliminated. But that's not all. What if the timeline had been different? What if she had not two, but five years’ experience? Or even more than that? What if, for a long duration of her experience as a swordsman, she was also experiencing a happy marriage? I invite you to consider the implications of a Mrs. Iguro Mitsuri who has the comfort and confidence of being herself with a husband, in addition to being in a leadership role in the Corp? A Mrs. Iguro who, with a little honesty from her husband who feels bothered that she’s embarrassed, stands up to Maeda-san and says that as a married woman she needs a more modest uniform?* A Mrs. Iguro who gained a level-headed battle sense that can only be refined through experience, not based in brute strength alone? She'd be such a happy badass. *(Not looking for a modern-era Western culture based debate on this; this is defined based on Mitsuri's desire for a proper Taisho Era marriage.) Now, remember those pins I put in place? Consider someone else who realized a natural Breath technique all on their own, who attained a mark without any intention to, who felt like a monster due to super human abilities that made them shamefully unable to fit into the ideal family life, despite only wanting a peaceful, happy wedded life? Someone who valued bonds with other people, a kind person who lived to protect others? Now, I'm not saying that Love Breathing is as powerful as the Breath of the Sun, or that Mitsuri is as innately powerful as Yoriichi (their natural skills were of different types entirely). But, as all Breath techniques stem from the same natural Sun Breathing source, Love Breathing might have found its way back a little closer to that source, in some way or another. Which is all to say, never look down on Love Breathing or on Mitsuri just because she didn't play as big of a role as the others in the final showdown. After all, that Breath was not yet all it could have been, and as a swordsman, she was not yet in full bloom.

[potter-imagines]

Library Confessions (George Weasley)

Summary:  george fluff?? maybe like some sort of best friends to lovers kinda deal?

Notes: I've been wanting to write George for a while so I was excited to make this !! hope you enjoy x

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 5.3k

It was a flurry and cold winter day, the kind of day when every breath stings the lungs and every exhale chills the lips. The frigid air, the slippery ground and the sheet of white covering the once green grass. All signs winter was here and cold times were ahead. Even in the highlands of Scotland, the winters were ferosus and unforgiving. Seeing as it was your seventh, and final, year at Hogwarts, most would assume you’d have adapted to the cold by now, but that wasn’t the case. Although as much as you despised the freezing temperature, the pulsating tick of your headache preferred the cold over the thunderous noise back inside.

The Gryffindor common room was too rambunctious- wild, uncontrolled for your desires tonight. It was Friday and tomorrow was the highly anticipated day trip to Hogsmeade. Students were understandable thrilled and you would have loved to join in, but the throbbing pain and stress of school on your shoulders masked your fun. The migraines were brought on by school, but also the idea that you would not get to join your friends tomorrow.

Your feet carried you further from the common room, the rowdy noise fading with every step. If the weight of homework wasn’t so heavy on your shoulders, the party would’ve been in your plans. You tried to stay as long as you could but after about twenty minutes, and three Weasley fireworks being set off, you decided a breath of fresh air sounded delightful.

Your best friends, Fred and George Weasley, were the cause of this chaos. They were fully sober yet drunk off the energy of the room. When you had left, Fred and Lee were orchestrating a tournament of pumpkin juice pong, and George was sitting on the scarlet couch talking to Harry, Ron and Hermione. His eyes darted to you every few seconds. Sometimes he would hold the gaze, or send you a wink, but most of the times he snapped his head back to the golden trio, pretending his attention was elsewhere.

It made your heart thump against the bones of your chest. You were sure if he had been sitting beside you he’d surely hear it, loud and clear. A deep pink blush spread across your cheeks at the thought of George. You had been close friends with the twins since you stepped foot on the Hogwarts Express and sat in the same cabinet as them. Through the years, the bond grew stronger yet developed differently with each twin. Fred was like an annoying, overbearing, proactive big brother and George, well, the affection you felt for George was not in a brotherly way. 

Since your third year, you started noticing subtle things about him. Like how he arched his eyebrows when he spoke, or when he’d bite his lip when taking notes. He also had a tendency to eat his dessert first, if you got him laughing enough he’d accidentally let out a tiny snort and he always stood to your left when you walked to class together. When winter came, George was always shedding his clothes in order to keep you warm. Fred would complain that you knew it was snowing, therefore it’s your fault for being cold, but never George. Not to say that Fred is cruel, he can be a gentleman when he chooses but your relationship was more sibling bickering and competition. But George had always been a bit, sweeter than Fred.

Most wrote the twins off as one person but the differences between the twins was written out in neon signs, in your eyes. Maybe it was because you were closer to the twins than most, besides Lee. They were both your best friends, but they treated you in polar opposite ways. If Fred ever tried to cuddle you in his bed, you were sure you’d ‘Stupefy’ him into oblivion. When George did it, you could hardly croak a breath with all the rockets exploding in your heart.

The fragrance of frosted pine and butterscotch wafted through the nipping air as you approached the north entrance of the castle. Winter was finally here. The beauty of Hogwarts shined most bright during this time of the year. Snow crunched under the weight of your foot while you trudged through the courtyard taking advantage of the short cut. With the overwhelming school work piling by the second, slipping into the library didn’t seem like such a bad idea. You had two papers, a research project for Magical Creatures, and an exam in Potions. Not to mention you were expected to memorize and perfect a list of disarming and protection spells before Defense Against the Dark Arts by Tuesday.

Lost in your own stress, you hardly noticed your feet carrying you into the large doors of the library. The lighting was low and the attendance was even dimmer. A few Hufflepuffs and a handful of Ravenclaws were scattered around the room. Madam Pince nodded her head at your arrival then returned to her work behind the main desk.

Sliding into an empty table, you started to situate yourself. A stack of parchment was already waiting next to a clean quill and glass container of ink. It wasn’t hard to find the necessary textbooks and you returned back to your seat rather quickly.

A good twenty minutes had passed before your ears perked up at the sound of Madam Pince scolding a student. You didn’t have a clean view of her desk but you assumed a group had gotten too loud for her liking. Turning back to your book you faced away from the main entrance of the library. Eyes scanning the textbook, a new presence creeping up behind you went unnoticed. As you flipped to the next page in the advanced potions book, a grasp clamped down on either shoulder and a pair of lips hovered dangerously close to your ear. The unexpected warmth created a jolt on energy through your body. You practically flung out of your chair in surprise, whipping around to face your attacker. The initial glare and scowl soon washed away as your eyes met a familiar pair of warm, chocolate orbs.

George Weasley had a devilish grin, proudly basking in your shock. Not giving you a second to refuse his arrival, George pulled the wooden chair besides you out and sat in it. Throwing his arm across your shoulder, he smiled innocently at you.

“And what might you be doing in here on this eventful Friday evening, hm?”

Still reeling in shock, you placed your hand over your heart in hopes to calm down from the scare. Wildly glaring up at George, you yelled in a hush tone,

“George! You nearly gave me a heart attack- what’re you doing here?” You smacked his chest with a thud, though George remained unphased. His eyes squinted down at you while he shot back,

“Pretty sure I asked you first, love.” He said smugly. A large maroon and gold sweater adorned his frame, paired with dark washed jeans. You could smell the signature scent of pine and cinnamon that wafted wherever he followed. Folding your book on the table top, you glared playfully at the ginger.

“What else is there to do in a library besides studying?” The smart reply caused a twinkle in George’s eyes. You could practically see the gears turning as his witty side took control. His fingers tightened around the blades of your shoulder, dragging you a tad closer to him.

“Plenty of things-” An instant smack came as you knocked his side once more. George chuckled at your reaction, clearly amused by the flusterness taking over your features. Motioning towards the stack of parchment and mountain high pile of lengthy textbooks, you shook your head.

“I’ve got a lot of work due this coming week, so figured I’d get a head start.”

“Ah, you weren’t enjoying the party.” He declared knowingly. George typically never left your side during house parties. The anxiousness and suffocation of the noise that crept into your veins was always capped by the feeling of his arm around your shoulder protectively. Although tonight, George ran to the Golden Trio the moment the function began, leaving you alone in the corner with Dean and Seamus. You were friends with the boys but George was the only one who could make you feel relaxed and him being busy, escaping the party seemed like the best option.

Leaning into your chair, a heavy sigh fell from your parted lips at the recollection of tonight. “Not really I suppose. I don’t know… not in the partying mood tonight.” You admitted softly. George’s face furrowed immediately, concerned painting his features boldly. The dim lighting of the library all but hid the gleam of worry in his eyes.

“What’s got you stressed, darling?”

Scoffing at the question you picked up your book and started flipping through the pages again. For starters, you couldn’t decide where was the best place to start when it came to all your worries. There was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who returned last school year, the fact that the twins were planning on leaving early to open their shop (which they asked you to help run once you finished with school), home stress, school work, your feelings for George, trying to figure out your plans for after Hogwarts, and so much more. The weight of the world was crashing down on you and for the first time, you felt like allowing it to crumble you.

“You mean besides the school work I’m drowning in and the ever looming fear of being murdered by the Dark Lord himself? Eh, not much.” The sarcastic reply was all too familiar to George. Having spent the last seven years glued to your side, he started to pick up on your antics. Like your constant need to use sarcasm to hide your genuine fears. He studied you for a moment, searching for any hint on what really had you worked up.

Reaching his hand out, George plucked the potions book from your hands and started surveying it. He tilted the book upside down, pretending to read the text. Scrunching his brows, the fiery twin feigned comprehension of the material, a small ‘oohh’ and ‘hm’ falling from his lips as he did so. His silly antics caused you to giggle as he threw the book back to the table.

“Why’re you doing homework on a Friday night, anyhow? You’ve got all tomorrow morning and all day Sunday for that!”

“Technically have all day tomorrow as well-” George stopped you short as he cut into the conversation stubbornly.

“No, we’re all going to Hogsmeade and I already claimed your spot next to me at The Three Broomsticks!” He resembled a pouty child as he huffed besides you. Flipping the page of your textbook, your mouth bunched in the corner, guilt entering your bloodstream.

“I’m really sorry, Georgie. If my grades slip any further- my mum’ll have my head on a stick! Besides, I didn’t figure it would be that big of a deal, everyone else is going so I’m sure my absence will not be noticed.” Your laugh was meant to cover the tang of honest hurt, although you hoped it would slip past him. Of course, George noticed everything when it came to you and seeing you down was definitely not something he felt okay with ignoring.

“But I’ll notice- just like I did tonight.” He added with a point of the finger. It was true, George always seemed to notice when you were missing. He also always seemed to know where you were when you did sneak away.

“Thanks…” Trailing off, you glanced over to George. The honey like orbs were already examining your features. You assumed he must’ve picked up on the sadness dripping through your pores because the next thing you knew, George was offering up his entire Saturday.

“You want me to stay back with you?” Your head snapped in his direction immediately. With a bugged stare, you shook your head feverishly.

“What- no! You and Fred practically countdown the days until we get to go to Hogsmeade. I know how bad you wanna go, don’t skip out ‘cause of me.”

“We do have another trip next month so I can just wait to go until then. I’m sure Hogsmeade will still be flourishing by then. C’mon, you know you want me to stay back. You’ll bore yourself to death without me around!”

“You’d just be staying back because you feel bad-” George interrupted you, face reading bewilderment at your accusation.

“No, I’d be staying back because I want to. Y/n, when have I ever hung out with someone I don't want to be around- besides Percy seeing as I’m obligated to share a home with him. I want to spend time with you, that’s why I look forward to Hogsmeade trips. Get to spend time with you outside of the castle. So if you’re not there, I’m just gonna be miserable, love. Which means, I better just stay back with you.” A mischievous smirk rose to his lips as he finished his spiel, crossing his arms across his chest. The material of his sweater bunched around his fold and you admired Molly’s handiwork. Pressing your finger into his chest, you gave George a playful shove. He reached out for the table top to sturdy himself as he chuckled. Batting your lashes you teasingly cooed,

“Sounds like someone can’t get enough of me.” Not missing a beat, George rested his elbow on the tabletop. His chin was planted in his palm as he leered dreamily.

“Thought we already established that.” He winked over to you. Lifting up your heavy book, you sheltered your blushing cheeks behind the pages. Your forehead pressed deeply into the pages as you folded the covers around your heated face.

“You joke too much.” Mumbling into the book, you were taken aback when a hand abruptly snatched the book from your fingertips. You watched as the book went above your head, then settled in George’s hand. He snapped the cover shut between his hands, an echoing ‘snap’ invading the library. The peppermint lingering on his breath smacked against your lips. George ran his finger over the title page, then tossed it to the side. As the book slammed on the counter, he turned his head back to you.

“Never about my feelings towards you, though.” He stated seriously. Your brows pulled together in a stern line.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your furrowed gaze rested heavily upon him.

“I just… really like spending time with you. Like just the two of us.” As he finished speaking, you watched cautiously as George’s hand sneaked over to land on top of yours. His palm was warm on top of yours. After a few seconds, he flipped your hand over so it was set inside his. That comfort feeling bursted in your chest under the weight of his eyes. It was funny how the simplest of actions from him could cause a firework extravaganza in your chest. The tension in your throat was increasing.

“I do, too, Georgie. You’re very sweet.” You smiled awkwardly, the bashfulness overcoming every cell in your body. When Fred complimented you or was too kind, it made you suspicious. Usually he buttered you up before a prank, so you never fully trusted his words but George? George was too gentle to ever set you up or put you in harms way.

“Y/n… there was actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you- well something I was gonna ask you tomorrow but seeing as you’re not going, might as well as you now.” The mumble was a notch above audible. You watched on as he fumbled with his hands, twiddling his thumbs nervously. His anxiousness was contagious as you soon felt uneasy as well. Your mind raced in worry as you wondered what was clouding his mind. As if it was second nature, your hand moved out in reaction to his worrisome state to snake his hand into your own. Softening your piercing stare, you squeezed his hand tightly.

“What’s wrong, George?”

His attention was shifted to your locked hands. It wasn’t the first time you held his hand, although it was the first time you were knocked off balance by the wave of electricity streaming down your spine from the touch. Based on his reaction, you figured George felt it too.

“Uh, would you ever want to, like, go on a date? I um, I’ve really liked you for quite some time now and I keep trying to ask you but I get nervous cause… I just needed to tell you myself before Fred does it for me.”

“Tell me now if this is a prank, George Weasley.” The sternness in your voice was something George only heard on occasion. He knew not to joke when it came to your heart so he was taken aback by your words, though understood why. You saw the confusion stirring in his brain before he settled your worries.

“It’s not a prank, love, I swear on my life. I would never lie about my feelings, that I can promise.”

“Tomorrow?” You looked up, eyes peeking over to your side. George had hardly moved and stared blankly at you. It was if his brain had hit a wall and was lagging in processing. The candle on the table flickered, orange and red shadows flashing across his face. Even in the shadows the razor sharp edges of his jaw and cheekbones popped.

“Huh?” He croaked.

Catching a Weasley twin off guard was not a common thing and George appeared baffled. Hands folded in your lap, you could feel the small shake to his grasp. In an odd way, you felt a surge of confidence knowing you had the power to make George blush. Tightening your hand around his own, you roamed the pad of your thumb across his knuckles.

“Could we go on a date tomorrow? After I finished at least two of my papers- could we go on a date then?” It was hard to shake the electric shock tingling through your bones. Never before had you basked in eyes as beautiful as his. His eyes reminded you of a pool of whiskey and shades of chestnut. When the light flashed, a honey, caramel tint soaked his orbs. Simply calling them ‘brown’ eyes did no justice.

Your voice brought a large smile to George’s lips like he won the lottery. The glistening gleam brighten the dim corner of the library. You could feel your breathing become inconsistent once again at the sight. Nodding his head, you watched with a smile as his sandy, ginger hair danced in tune.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Does uh, does that mean you like me too?”

Leaning back in your seat, you started to think back on all your years at Hogwarts. There wasn’t an exact moment you fell for him- it didn’t happen all at once. It was born as a crush, your heart leaping at the sight of the handsome boy your first year. When you started hanging out with the twins, you immediately grew close with them by the third week. Since then, you only got closer with the twins although it was undeniable that there was always a more intense gravitational pull you felt towards George. Not that Fred hadn’t pointed out the obvious connection between his twin and you numerous times. He enjoyed harassing George and yourself a bit too much.

Shrugging your shoulder in uncertainty, you admitted,

“Honestly it’s been so long I can’t remember when I first started liking you. I mean I’ve had a crush on you since first year and… I’ve always found you to be the funniest, most handsome guy I’ve ever met.” You paused your word vomit to take in George’s expression for a sign. Glancing up, you noticed he was far closer to you than he was before. The tip of his nose faintly brushing against your own. Your eyes enlarged in seconds at the lack of space between you two. “What’re you doing?”

A gulp echoed through George. His teeth dug into the skin of his bottom lip, tugging at the skin in an attempt to calm his nerves. You viewed in curiosity as his eyes darted from your lips, to your eyes, then to the floor, then back to your lips again. Your suspicions were confirmed as George locked his peer into your own. His face read seriousness as he asked you gravely,

“Are you going to slap me if I kiss you? I’ve seen you knock the daylights out of Fred for trying to. Mum says you need to take a girl out before you kiss ‘em for real so I wanna do it somewhat right. Y’know, be a gentleman and such.” 

Your cheeks flared red instantly, eyes planted to the floor. George had always been sweet but you never expected him to be this sweet. There was nothing more in the world that you desired than finally getting to kiss George Weasley, but it was an incredible kind of him to take your own feelings into thought before acting. You pressed your lips together tightly, exceeding all your effort into suppressing the bashful smile threatening to breakthrough. It took everything inside to contain your excitement and nerves at his proposal.

George broke your messy train of thought as the sensation of his hand against your skin registered. His slim fingers brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, then wrapped around the side of your cheek. Like two magnets matching up, you melted into his touch. Finally drawing your gaze back up, you placed the palm of your hand against George’s chest, grasping a light fist of his sweater for stability. The height difference wasn’t immense, but enough that you needed some sort of control to keep on your feet.

“How proper of you, Mr. Weasley. Yes, I would really like that.”

Leaning into his hand, you met George’s gaze as you slowly moved towards each other. Meeting in the middle, you were nearly knocked off your feet by the force of his embrace. Your lips connected like a perfectly mapped constellation. His kiss was warm and fulfilling, yet constantly left you wanting more. It was undeniable he had practice before, his lips moved far too calm for this to be his first.

You practically melted in his arms, kissing him softly. Your lips danced for a moment until you steadied your hand on his cheek, holding his face. You needed that sense of control, wanted to feel the hold you had under George. Taking the first leap, you dragged your wet tongue along the smoothness of his bottom lip. A tiny, almost inaudible groan fell from his mouth. You deepended the embrace momentarily, then pulled away to press one lasting kiss to his puckered lips. George giggled in reaction, a cherry red blush painting his cheeks.

“You’re adorable.” George ‘booped’ the tip of your nose when he finished speaking. You laughed at his action then extending your finger, you placed a similar tap to his nose and teased him,

“Stop talking about yourself, George.” Although before you could fully retreat your hand, George’s own wrapped around your fingers. In one swift motion he lifted your hand to his face, then pressed his lips to the back of your hand. As he raised his head, his arm was quick to wrap around your shoulder, jerking your chair towards George as a result. His fingers clutched your upper arm loving. 

That smug smile was plastered across his face again, pleasantly pleased with the peach glow tinting your cheeks. Feeling the heat rising you dove to cover your cheeks in the sleeves of his sweater. George accepted your full embrace, arms moving to circle your body entirely. Suddenly a light bulb popped in his mind as he released his grip slightly to glance down at you.

“Maybe if I help you with some of your paper tonight, we’ll have more time for our date tomorrow!” The excitement in his voice was by far the sweetest sound you’d heard. You smiled back at him and nodded in agreement.

“Sure but I do the writing- I don’t trust you enough for that. Your handwriting resembles that of a child.” You laughed at your own jab while George gave you a deadpan look, clearly unable to form a comeback. He’d say so himself that his print was what the Muggles would call ‘chicken scratch’, a phrase you taught George. When George first learned to write with a quill and ink, he had a tendency to smear the ink a smudge as he scribbled away faster than the speed of light. Molly would scold George as the side of his hand would be stained a deep black shade and his paper was hardly legible.

“Rude but, understandable.” George commented. It was sweet of him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if he truly wanted to spend his Friday night stuck in the library. Raising your eyebrow to the boy, you gave him a questionable look.

“Wait, don’t you have a party you should be getting back to?” Arm still enclosed around your frame, George gave you a squeeze. A mischievous smirk now covered his lips as he confessed the truth. 

“What do you mean? I only threw that party with Fred so I could spend the night around you- maybe impress you with my wicked dance moves.”

Giving him a pointed look, your chest erupted with a fit of giggles. A memory popped into your mind of the first time you got the chance to view a drunk George Weasley putting on a ‘show’ for you. Sober George was a decent dancer but drunk George was on a different level of skill. The liquid courage had left George regretting a lot of nights and quite a bit of scenarios that came as a result. 

Although dancing drunk with you was never a regret of his. Especially when the two of you went to the Yule Ball together as ‘friends’. Mummers followed your every move as you waltzed with George, students gossiping about George and yourself. Not that you paid attention to anyone but George- there wasn’t a chance given to! You didn’t spend a single second resting on your feet as George had you dancing until the band was packing up. He spun, twisted, lifted, and twirling you all night long. When a slow song finally came on, the prankster king put his gentleman side on full display. It was by far one of the best nights of your life, one you still had yet to stop daydreaming over. Poking his side, you smirked teasingly at the boy.

“Georgie, darling, I’ve seen them before. You’d have a better chance sending yourself to the infirmary than impressing me with your ‘moves’. I haven’t forgotten the Yule Ball last year. My head was spinning for a month!” You laughed together at the reminiscence. George was just as mesmerized by the night as you, maybe a tad more so. For those few hours of pure bliss, George had never felt more complete. Seeing you all dressed up and glowing from head to toe- the image was captured in his mind forever. He never understood the term ‘speechless’ until he saw you walking down the stairs in search of him. He replayed that moment over and over again for a year now. Rubbing your shoulders lovingly, George leaned his head on top of yours.

“Aw, c’mon! You loved it! Twirling around like a beautiful ballerina in your dress. You looked breathtaking- everyone was staring at you. Can’t blame them, I couldn’t keep my eyes off you either.” His words made your insides feel fuzzy, kinda like the sleeve of his sweater. That of which your fingers were absentmindedly petting. George smiled down at the quirk, he loved every antic of yours.

Shaking your head, you pulled the book back that George had discarded. After all, you still had a stack of unwritten essays to get working on. You popped open the top of the ink container. George unraveled his arm from your shoulder to wrap lightly around your waist.

“Stop making me blush.” Crimson flooded your s/c cheeks, far too flustered to meet George’s eyes. That confidence from early had flown away just as sudden as it came. A sprout of warmth came as George’s finger pressed against the side of your jaw, turning your face. Sweetly, and silently, he requested your gaze to which you obliged.

“But you look so beautiful when you do, darling. Now stop distracting me- we have a paper to write, in case you’ve forgotten, love.” His lips darted forward and soon enough, his enticing lips kissed your reddening cheeks. George smirked teasingly, reaching the feathered quill out to brush against your nose. You lightly smacked it away, giggling at him as you did.

“You’re the one distracting me-” The squeal was silenced by George as he pretended to ignore your words as he continued to tease you. Pressing his finger against your lips, George purred,

“Hush, we’ve got work to do so I can take you out tomorrow, love.”

“Fine but don’t forget Georgie, I’m doing the writing.” Narrowing your playful glare, you spoke sternly. It was a sort of game you played- going back and forth with one another. Although finally that teasing crossed the line of flirting to something real. In a way, it almost felt fake. Like all those years of waiting hadn’t really paid off, you were just asleep in your dorm room, dreaming this all up.

The touch of George’s arm leaving your waist cold was enough to question; however the radiating sensation of his hand slipping into yours was confirmation it was real. The chaste kiss he left on the back on your hand still buzzed. Despite the lack of lighting, every handsome feature was distinct from his blazing locks to the scatter of freckles dotting his face. Giving you a sly wink George flirted,

“Ah, I love a woman who takes control.”

For the next hour and a half, far in the corner, behind rows of bookshelves and torches to light to way, George and yourself attempted to write your essay. The first hour consisted of stolen kisses, stolen looks, and George constantly stealing your book from your hands. He made it nearly impossible to the point you threatened to cancel your study date, which shaped him up immediately. 

The last half and hour George read to you different pages from your stack of books until you got a good jump on the paper. You were feeling hopeful until Madam Pince had announced the library would be closing for the night. In a matter of seconds, George’s hand was clamped around your wrist, attempting to drag you out. You managed to scoop your school supplies together and tuck them away in your bag before allowing him to escort you back to the common room. You just hoped your study date tomorrow would consist of some actual study. If not, it’s a good thing you have all of Sunday.

[peach-pops]

Amorentia || Kuroo Tetsurō

summary: amorentia has a different scent or aroma for anyone who smells it and the potion, if done correctly, can remind the user of things or more specifically someone they find most attractive, even if the said person is oblivious in their attraction. 

word count: 3.1k

warnings: none 

authors note: i dont know why i always end up writing for kuroo but this dude just speaks to me on an inspirational level ya know? kuroo is a ravenclaw in this but the reader is gn and i didn’t specify what house the reader is in to make it a bit more inclusive. credits to @rhymewithrachel​ for the picture of kuroo which you can find here and pls check out their page for more amazing art! also i def feel like i’ve written the last few lines on like another piece i’ve done but oh well if it isn’t broken, don’t fix it

The library was eerily still for a Thursday morning but you relished in how quiet it was. You had found the perfect sweet spot; not too late where you would forget breakfast but early enough to where you would avoid the morning rush of students who would try to find a quiet spot to study. 

The lowly lit lanterns were useless since the sun was beginning to peak its way through the windowpane behind you and the small semblance of light drew your attention to the dust that was floating lazily in the air.

Even though there were hardly any students around you, you felt as though you were tucked away from the world as you spread your legs out against the leather couch with a Magic Potions: Basic for Beginners textbook settled in your lap. Besides the ever so often sound of a few students rustling their papers, it was truly peaceful. 

“ Good morning beautiful, mind if I join you?” 

Bloody hell. 

You looked up from your textbook to see Kuroo standing over by your legs that were neatly crossed over each other. You would be lying if you said you weren’t slightly taken aback by seeing him so early in the morning but even if he did manage to wake up on time for class, his hair was still a disheveled mess from his horrid bedhead. 

“ You’re up early,” You replied normally as you turned your attention back to your book,” by the way, your tie is crooked, might want to fix that, yeah?” 

You and Kuroo were both in the same year but you two didn’t officially get acquainted until your fourth year when he had “accidentally” spilled butterbeer all over you and then attempted to wipe it off with his bare hand. 

“ Shit, I-I am so sorry! Let me just-”

“ Can you stop feeling me up and get me a napkin instead, you creep?” 

“ A creep? I’m nothing short of a gentleman- speaking of which, are you dating anyone by chance?” 

“ Are you joking? As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself.” 

Your vow was fully ignored and by some weird alignment of the planets, you two had been inseparable since. Of course, Kuroo still spent his time over the past two years trying to woe you in some way and while you used to find yourself flustered over his charm, you managed to get used to the constant flirting between the two of you. 

Who were you kidding, the flirting was mostly one-sided unless you weren’t exhausted trying to think of witty comebacks to try and get him stumbling over his words like the first time you two met. 

However, you weren’t blind. You were bold enough to admit to yourself that over the years, Kuroo got progressively wittier, taller, and yes, possibly more attractive. You would never admit it out loud but there was a slight possibility you were starting to see him in a different light.

Nonetheless, you figured feelings like those would just come and go, and surely you didn’t actually have feelings for him. 

Kuroo looked down at his tie and shrugged nonchalantly before fixing it,” I was tossing and turning all night, poor Akaashi had to sleep in the common room because I was keeping him up too. Quidditch tryouts are this afternoon and I’m hoping we can get a strong team together so we can keep up our legacy.”

“ First-year as captain and you’re already nervous,” You clicked your tongue against your teeth as you took another bite of your raspberry scone, utilizing the silence between the two of you as you finished chewing,” hopefully Ravenclaw will get some wins this year. You know, for your own sake and my sanity.” 

“ Okay ouch, first of all, you know you’re not supposed to eat in the library it’s forbidden,” Kuroo crossed his arms playfully over his chest as you only hummed in response,” and second of all, maybe if I had someone special cheering me on, I would do immensely better.”  

You knew he was only being smug since you always showed up to his games but nothing was more entertaining than watching Kuroo practically gush over Quidditch only for you to act somewhat disinterested. 

“ Aw, do you want me to show up with some blue and bronze paint over my face? Maybe even bring a poster with your name on it with little hearts decorated on the border because I have sooo much free time on my hands?” You teased as you played with your hair while pouting back up at him, relishing in the way he shifted from side to side,” honestly Kuroo, you know I have better things to do than to watch you fly around like a lunatic.” 

Kuroo smirked to himself but said nothing to retaliate as he offered his hands to help you out of your seat once he saw the time,” Come on, you know Slughorn will throw another fit if we’re late again and by the looks of it, you can’t afford falling behind.” 

For a moment, you thought that maybe you had gone too far. His response was almost disappointing in contrast to how he would usually retort with something wittier of the sort but it was out of your control now. 

You closed your textbook and grabbed Kuroo’s hands so he could help you off the leather couch but once he got you up to your feet, his strong grip on your hands didn’t release. 

Your chests were almost touching and the distance between you two was so small, you could distinctively smell his signature vanilla aftershave that he put on every morning. You looked down at your hands that were fitted perfectly against his as Kuroo leaned down close to your ear, his breath tickling your neck.

“ Don’t act so coy, Y/N. I know you would love nothing more than to wear my jersey so that everyone else could know you like me.”

You could feel the heat rise from your chest to your ears as you slipped your hands out from his to hold your textbook to your chest, as if it would cool you down. You fiddled with the spine of the textbook as a distraction as Kuroo smiled back innocently at you to give you time to compose yourself. 

“ D-Don’t say things like that, you’re my friend and that’s all,” You stammered as you slapped his shoulder to make the tension less thick,” and wipe that grin off your face, you look like an idiot!” 

Kuroo laughed, easing whatever tension was left in the air as he bumped your shoulder with his, “ Fine, fine, I’ll stop but only because you’re my special friend.”

“ You’re the worst.” 

“ And you love it.”

“ Are you sure we’re doing this right?” You asked Kuroo as he sprinkled in the powdered moonstone while you stirred the concoction slowly. 

You surveyed the room as you watched your fellow classmates fail miserably at the assignment at hand, some being greeted with thick clouds of smoke while others potions just combusted into flames. 

You flinched at the sound of shrieking and looked up to see Sugawara and Daichi backing away from their cauldron as a mass of black tar started to slither out towards them. Slughorn had warned everyone that this potion was tricky to master but you didn’t think it would be this difficult and as time passed, the more anxious you grew. 

Kuroo, as unbothered as ever, looked down at the instructions for a moment before turning his attention back at the cauldron,” Yep, triple checked it and everything. You sure are nervous today.”

“ I’m always nervous during this class, you know I’m awful at potions. Plus look what happened to Oikawa, he’s in the hospital wing because of this lab.” 

“ He’ll be fine, the flames weren’t too high, he probably just lost an eyebrow,” Kuroo teased, trying to keep your mind at bay,” are you sure you’re not nervous because we’re concocting Amorentia?” 

You continued to stir the mixture carefully as you only scoffed,” Why would I be nervous of a silly little love potion?” 

“ First off, Amorentia is one of the most powerful love potions in existence so show some respect,” Kuroo said as you only rolled your eyes back at him,” And second of all, maybe you’re nervous because this will finally prove that you have feelings for me.” 

“ Knock it off before I send you to the hospital wing nerd,” You replied hastily as Kuroo put his hands up in defense,” Are you sure you’re not the nervous one? You’ve been acting weird since class has started...like more mouthy than usual.” 

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve gone the whole lesson completely oblivious to Kuroo’s nervous tics, but after years of being friends, you knew better than to pass them off as normal tendencies. 

Kuroo rubbed the corner of the textbook page between his fingers as his eyes read the directions over again to try and ground himself in his thoughts. He had re-read the same step of the last instruction for the past couple of minutes to look occupied but his facade was starting to fall apart. 

“ If you paid more attention to the assignment instead of me, maybe you would pass the class, huh?” Kuroo smirked to try and ease your mind but the action only made you feel more annoyed. 

“ Enough with this back and forth, are we almost done? You’ve been reading the last step for a while now, is it that hard or are you just stupid today?” You nudged Kuroo out of the way and bent your body over the table to read the last step, wanting nothing more than to get this class over with. 

Kuroo watched as you began to stir the concoction slowly, his eyes trained on the top of the cauldron to watch for any sign of steam. 

“ What color are the spirals supposed to be?” You asked as a dark, pink-colored steam started to slowly rise from the mixture,” did he say pink was right or purple? Maybe red I don’t even remember.” 

Kuroo carefully leaned closer beside you to get a better look at the steam,”Looks right to me. You smell anything?” 

“ The only thing I can smell is that god awful aftershave of yours so back up.” 

You leaned your forearms on the table and took in a deep breath of the potion. Almost instantly, you felt a comforting warmth spread throughout your body that started in your chest and moved all the way down to your head and toes. You felt your body completely relax and it felt almost similar to the feeling of submerging yourself into a hot bath after a long day. 

It would make absolutely no sense to describe the scents as something so oddly familiar and distinct while not being obvious at all yet that was where your headspace was as you tried to identify the scents. 

Almost immediately, once you pinpointed one scent, the rest came flooding in one after another,” I smell something like cinder-a burning logfire...and....I know what this is it’s kinda like- oh, broomstick polish!” 

You took into another deep breath to try and identify the last scent but you couldn’t put a name to the scent which only made you more frustrated. 

“ Kuroo, can you help me? I can’t figure out the last scent,” You sighed as Kuroo closed his eyes to take a turn, even though he could already pinpoint a few scents from his spot,” do you smell the logfire too?” 

Kuroo only smiled to himself as he felt the warmth spread across his body before shaking his head,” That’s not how it works. Our scents would be different for example, I smell…freshly clean linen, old parchment paper, and… butterbeer froth.”

Once the words left Kuroo’s mouth, he opened his eyes and turned to you to read your reaction. He looked for something, anything behind those eyes of yours to watch it all click in your head but as usual, you were completely oblivious to the huge hint he had given you. 

“ Lucky you, I wish I could smell what you can- this is harder than I thought,” You pouted as you noticed some of your other classmates were getting distracted by you and Kuroo’s Amortentia,” maybe we did this wrong.”

“ We did it right, don’t worry,” Kuroo cleared his throat as he gave you a nudge with his shoulder which only made you nudge him back even harder,” maybe you should try again, think really hard. Try to see where you recognize the scent instead of what it is.” 

You closed your eyes and just like before, the same warm sensation flooded your body but this time, you could feel yourself leaning closer and closer to the cauldron, almost as if the potion was pulling you in deeper. 

“ Burning logfire, broomstick polish and…” You took in another deep breath but you were only meet with more frustration,” for the last time, can you give me some space, Kuroo? I swear all I can smell is your-.” 

You opened your eyes and practically pulled yourself away from the table once an unsettling realization had started to develop quickly in your mind. You knew exactly what the scent was but there was that lingering sensation in your mind that still tried to convince itself that for once, maybe you were wrong. 

Kuroo let out a breathy laugh as the back of your neck and ears began to grow hot,” Something the matter-”

Without thinking, you grabbed Kuroo’s collar and pulled him down to your eye level. Kuroo’s face started to grow red as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck to get a better smell. You had to be going crazy, there was no way- it all had to be a trick. 

“ Are you sure we did this right? You’re absolutely positive?” You asked softly as you let go of his collar. 

Kuroo smoothed out his collar and nodded as he looked back at the cauldron,”I’m absolutely positive- why are you freaking out?” 

Because I smell your stupid vanilla aftershave. 

“ I’m not freaking out,” You lied through your teeth as you turned your attention to Slughorn as he dismissed the class for the day,” You know what, I’m actually not feeling well- Can you clean up for me? I’m feeling a little lightheaded.”

“Y/N-”

“ I’ll see you around,” You gathered your things quickly but as you reached for your potions book, Kuroo snatched it off the table and held it behind his back,”enough Kuroo, give it back.” 

“ Clean linen, parchment, and butterbeer froth,” Kuroo listed as you tried to grab your book from behind his back but Kuroo was quick to hold it above his head,”did you hear me?” 

You looked up at how high he was holding your textbook and as embarrassing as it was, you decided to hold on to the little dignity you had left and not jump up and down for it. 

“ Yes I heard you but I don’t care.” 

“ You do care and you’re not listening to me. I smelled clean linen, parchment paper, and butterbeer froth so now it’s your turn, what did you smell?” Kuroo asked, this time a bit louder. It was obvious in the way he was enunciating his words that he was trying to lead you down a certain conversation but you were slow to pick up on it. 

You didn’t want to tell him, all you wanted to do was go back to bed and pretend as though this day had never happened. The idea that all this time you actually had real feelings for Kuroo only made you feel flustered. 

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of liking someone like him but for years, you had convinced him and seemingly everyone else that you would never have feelings for Kuroo. In reality, you couldn’t have been more wrong. 

“ Do we have to do this right now?” You asked softly as you nodded over to Slughorn who was dusting the corners of his desk but it was obvious he was eavesdropping on the conversation. 

Without missing a beat, Kuroo nodded and lowered your textbook back down to hand it to you.

“ You’re right, we should discuss this someplace quiet and private, how does dinner sound?”

You shook your head at the boy as you tried to grab your textbook from him but you couldn’t pry it off his strong grip,“ Quit flirting with me, now isn’t the time.” 

Kuroo couldn’t take it anymore; the years of endlessly flirting and being ignored was taking a toll on his pride and he couldn’t stand it. He knew you were prideful but this was on a whole different level.

“ Now is the perfect time since now I know you like me after all.”

“ How- I do not-”

“ You’re a terrible liar Y/N, the aftershave was a dead giveaway and I don’t know whether or not I’m more hurt by the fact that you’re too embarrassed to admit you like me or that you think my aftershave is god awful,” Kuroo said as he loosened his grip on the book so you could take it from his hands,” aren’t you tired of pretending you don’t have feelings for me?” 

You carefully took back your textbook as if it was a fragile vase and held it close to your chest as if you were shielding your heart. 

“ For the record, I don’t think it’s god awful, I just think you put on way too much,” You mumbled as Kuroo stood up straighter,” and I’m not tired of pretending, maybe I don’t like you or maybe I do have feelings for you.”

“ But maybe you like me more than you dislike me, am I right?”

You opened your mouth but quickly closed it after thinking his words over for a moment,“Emphasis on maybe...but don’t let it get to your head. You get one date so don’t ruin it.” 

Even though it wasn’t the confession Kuroo wanted, it was the only confirmation he needed to hear from you to let him know that the feelings were mutual. 

Kuroo couldn’t help but wear a huge goofy smile on his face as he collected his things and followed your lead as you both started to walk out the classroom. You and Kuroo politely nodded and said goodbye to Slughorn, who was pretending to read the textbooks along the shelves. 

Once you two left the classroom, Kuroo’s hand slide down beside yours and started to play with your fingers carefully. Your hand recoiled from the feeling but once you made sure the hallway was clear of any onlookers, you let your hand slide back down and let his fingers intertwine with yours. 

“ You know, I knew you really liked me, I called it since day one-” 

“ Okay, that’s enough Kuroo.” 

“ You said and I quote,’As if I would be under the accompaniment of a clumsy Ravenclaw like yourself’ and look at you now, holding hands with one!”

You shook your head at him and wondered to yourself if this is how things would be now yet you still couldn’t bring yourself to hide the small smile on your face,”You’re the worst.” 

Kuroo squeezed your hand in his and shared the same lovey-dovey grin on his face,” and you love it.” 

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