#so what. self-pub i guess?

[bootstrapparadoxed]

I've now (lightly) edited 6 chapters of FrankensteinWIP and uhhh. Well. Good news about it: I no longer feel meh about the book, I love it again. Bad (?) news about it: I think I have written something that appeals specifically to me and no one else which, uh, that was the plan originally I guess? Like I wanted to write something entirely self-indulgent and personal, and I think I succeeded, but my question is - will anyone else want to read this? Cause I honestly cannot tell.

Almost exactly half of this book is a slow-burn queer romance in a dark academia setting and then the other half is going to be a creepy disturbing science/medical horror (plus the romance will go from slightly questionable to a co-dependent nightmare). I adore this, I feel like I am writing my own version of Secret History with overt queer text instead of subtext. However. Would anyone else read this lol

Anyway, I will edit the first half until I run out of stuff to edit and go back to drafting with renewed motivation. I still haven't decided if I want to share that first half already btw. But I do enjoy the edit so far. A lot. So at least there's that.

[alnilaem]

cw for kidnapping and emotional manipulation

-

Ghost spots a bird across the pub with her wings clipped. She trembles as she watches her friend disappear into the sea of gyrating bodies, holding onto a man she just met and is deciding to abandon her for.

“You don’t mind, right?” Her friend had asked.

She chirped ditheringly. “Um… sure, yeah. You go have fun.”

A fickle smile split her cheeks. A warm wash of liquid glossed her eyes.

Ghost watches her watching her friend. Sadness is written into her features. That type of sadness so deep-seated you feel it crushing your ribs, denting your heart. She sighs and hangs her head, staring down at her drink. Her ice cube has melted, the salt crusting her rim having hardened. Her shoulder start to shake.

Ghost decides it would be remiss of him to not check up on her. The bird with frilly feathers and bent wings, wounded, too feeble to fight back.

He throws back the rest of his drink. He doesn’t wince at the burn, but still, Ghost’s face puckers into something different. Something mean as he approaches her and lays his elbow on the bar’s sticky countertop, splitting his hand across the top of her spine.

“What’s a bird like you doin’ all alone?”

She girdles. It’s like she’s been folded in two and hung out to dry, the way she shrinks into herself and flexes her shoulders.

His words hang stagnant for a few seconds. Perhaps it will make him lose interest and slip away, but Ghost is a persistent one. The badges embroidered into his uniform are a testament to that.

He passes his thumb over her neck. She shivers.

“I… um. Well, my boyfriend’s in the bathroom.”

Ghost almost chuckles. The bird says it with such skittish conviction that surely, not even she believes it.

He grunts. “It’s rude to lie, y’know.”

She gulps. “My friend’s with me.”

“The one that just left you?” He asks. “A pretty shit friend, if you ask me. A bird like you deserves someone better.”

She purses her lips because they begin to quiver. She tries shouldering him away, tries blinking back the fat tears of brine that threaten to thaw and slip down her cheek. Her voice is distorted with discomfort and self-pity when she replies, “That’s stupid. I just want her to be happy.”

“And her?” Ghost prompts. He distracts her with his rough lilt as he slips his hand low, into the divot between her ass and waist. “How often does she fuck off with the men you fancy?“

She flinches. It’s the sudden recoil of her muscles, and her mind’s attempt at getting away from him.

“I-it’s not like that.”

“Yeah?” He asks. “It’s not like she leaves you alone every time you go out, lookin’ like a dolt when she finds someone more fun?”

She swallows thickly. Her lips warble around her next words. “… Sometimes, I guess.”

Ghost’s cock jumps. The fat mass pushes against his jeans, angled towards her.

“Yeah,” he croons. “I know how hard it can be. Why don’t you come over to my flat, huh? Give ‘er a taste of her own medicine.”

She inches away. Ghost only holds her tighter, gripping that broken little wing of hers and doting on it.

“I don’t… do that stuff. Sorry.”

Something primal in Ghost barks. That stuff. She’s never taken dick? Or never taken dick from a stranger? Either way, Ghost’s cock stirs and starts drooling on his thigh. She can probably see it. That blotchy stain on his jeans under the mellow lighting.

“I play nice, bird,” he mutters. “And wouldn’t it be nice to get back at them? Your mate? All those blokes who ignored you?”

She squeezes her thighs when Ghost settles his hand on her ass. She has trouble pulling them back apart, her thighs that is, as they’re adhered with slick.

“I asked you a question. Wouldn’t it be nice?”

“I guess so…” she whimpers. Keening into Ghost’s whispering touch, the heat of his cock.

He pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slams it onto the table. He stands up, looking something like a predator on its hind legs, and pulls her from the barstool.

“Let’s go, pretty bird,” he leashes his hand around the base of her neck, leading her outside and into his rust-spattered truck. “You deserve it.”

A stroke of heat licks up her innards. She’s already dazed by the time she’s in his truck, preening as he splits his hand across her leg and digs divots into her thigh, kneading her supple flesh. She’s bleary eyes and impaired on arousal as they drive past the city’s margins and into the outback, the roads turning pebbled.

She’s too excited, too sweet to heed Ghost pulling her out of his truck and hauling her into a neglected flat.

She only feels his hands on her, big and warm. And the cool carbon steel of handcuffs locking around her ankle.

She smiles.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Baby Face - A John Shelby/Reader One Short Story.

Words - 2,742

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

You and your girlfriends, you have names for each of them. Names the don’t know about. Tommy is razor cheeks, because of course. Those cheekbones. Arthur is angry fella, again, self-explanatory, and John is... 

“Look, girls,” you chime, sipping upon your gin while discreetly nodding in the direction of the Garrison’s entrance. “Baby face just walked in.”  

“He’s so adorable,” your friend Marjie sighs, turning to you with a look of pure adoration upon her face. “I don’t know what I’d like to do more, mother him or get on him!” 

“Oh,” you snort, shaking your head, “it’s the latter for me. I would ride that man all the way to town and back!”  

Your girls all cackle, huddling close, Joan the next to speak. “Would you, though? I mean, he’s a bit too sweet looking for me! Dunno if he’d have it in him, to be as much man as I’d need!” 

You turn to view him again, catching his eye. He gives you an appreciative sweep with his eyes, winking. Turning back to your friends, you beam widely. “He’s got it in him. I know we call him baby face, but there’s a demon lurking beneath. I know there is.” 

“A shilling says you’re wrong.” Reaching into her purse, Winnie pulls out the very coin itself, slapping it down on the table. Joan and Marjie follow suit. “Are you prepared to put your money where your mouth is?” 

Rifling in your bag, you remove your dainty little purse, taking out the coin and placing it with theirs. “I’ll put my money there. My mouth has other plans.” 

“Oooh, you dirty cat!” Winnie shrieks, her brother, the man you needed to accompany you to the pub in order to be served in the first place turning, tutting and shaking his head.  

“All alley cats, the lot of ya!” 

“Oh, pipe down, our Wilf,” she orders lightly, giving him a nudge where he’s turned in his seat at the next table over with his lad friends. “We’re only having a bit of fun!” 

A bit of fun. You can guess with almost certainty you’d receive exactly that from John Shelby. Turning again, you see he’s still at the bar, drinking with a couple of the lesser famed Blinders, once again catching your eye. He lifts his chin, holding your gaze fast while sipping his whiskey, placing his glass down and making a motion with his fingers for you to go over. Smiling, you remain in your seat. 

He can work a little harder than that.  

The excited squeaks of your friends – who of course witnessed it – tinkle through the air, Joan holding out a cigarette, lighting it for you, her eyes suddenly widening.  

“Baby face on his way over! This is not a bloody drill!” 

Your heart somersaults, but you remain calm, feeling him arrive at your side. “Evening, ladies. Having a good time, are ya?” 

Looking up at him, you’re near intoxicated out of your mind by his scent, his eyes so much more beautiful close up. God, he’s simply divine. “I could be having a better one.” 

“Oh, ar?” he chimes, raising an eyebrow as he idly chews upon his toothpick. “Anything I can help with?”  

Your girlfriends snort with giggles, John giving them a fleeting look of curiosity before his eyes fall back upon you. He doesn’t wait for you to reply. “How about I get another gin in that glass for ya, and we go from there?” 

You stand, licking your lips, watching his eyes flit down, his pupils inking a little. You have to stop yourself from diving on him right there and then. “Lead the way.” He offers his arm, and you take it to a little “ooooh!” chorus from your friends, turning to give them a scolding look. After being escorted from the bar and furnished with another drink, one drink leads to two, two to three, the evening flying by as you get to know the third Shelby brother a little better.  

You find him to be sweet and charming beneath the veil of hardened gangster, and, well, cheeky as hell.  

“I gotta hand it to ya, bab. Those are some cracking legs you’ve got,” he compliments with a wink, looking down and back up again, his cocky smile broadening.  

You lean in close to him, gliding a fingernail over his defined jaw. “Why thank you.” 

His intense gaze doesn’t leave you for a second, turning to press a little kiss to your fingertip. “Yeah, your legs look amazing, but they’d look even better wrapped around me.”  

The signals you’ve been giving to one another have all led to this point, your smile broadening in an instant. “I have lodgings above the shoe shop on Bennett Street. Want to come and see for yourself how good they’ll look around you?” 

You’ve never seen a man see off a fresh whiskey quite so fast before. “Lead the way, love.” You know the Shelby abode is closer than your little room above Mr. Smedley’s Shoes and Leather goods, but you’d prefer to be in your own space with a man you truly don’t know well at all. Outside, you fall into step at his side, taking his arm again, thinking how gentlemanly he is, right up until he suddenly pushes you into an alleyway.  

You feel a little anxious at first, but the way he looks at you. Oh, look. There’s the demon you knew was lurking beneath the surface, spitting out his toothpick before his mouth lands upon yours. His kisses are whiskey tinged and lust dripping, all sweet heat and need as he pushes himself against you. It’s imposing, but not intimidating, his want for you melding with yours as the sparks begin to crackle further into illumination.  

“Come on, mister. You’re not shagging me in an alleyway.” Grabbing his hand, you lead him back out to the street again, John releasing it to wrap an arm around your shoulders instead, your own extending around his waist. The balmy summer evening still warms the pale, inky violet of night, the air pleasant, the birds still twittering as they sit on the viaducts above, turning three corners before you end up on Bennett Street.  

John Shelby has never been so pleased to see a shoe shop in all of his life, and the spring in his step confirms it. If not, the way he begins to lay hot kisses upon your neck as you jiggle the key in the side door lock tells you plenty. The entrance to the two lodging rooms above the is separate from the shop itself, a narrow staircase taking you up a flight, turning right into an equally narrow passageway.  

“Bathroom is at the end there.” you point, unlocking the door to the left and opening it to reveal your modest dwelling.  

“It’s your bed I wanna know the way to more right now,” he breathes, shrugging his jacket off, his hands impatiently moving to you, smoothing over your body, mouth still furiously heated at your neck. God, the raw passion in him. It’s almost enough to make your knees buckle, feeling your dress come loose in his hands as you step out of your shoes, turning to kiss him.  

He backs you against the door, hands pawing at you urgently, kisses full-bodied and blistering with heat. Your hands begin the desperate devouring of clothes, having his shirt unfastened in haste to feel his skin against yours, your body smoothed and squeezed in a touch that leaves you breathless. Your fingers rain trails of exploration over his chest, and the noise he makes as his tongue swirls with yours is pure sin, his touch slipping to your undergarments.  

He fights against the lace, a hand slipping within, pulling a gasp from you when his fingers brush against the petals of your sex. You whine at the tease, and he smiles against your lips, pulling from the kiss to look at you through a heavy-lidded gaze, watching the need dance in your eyes. He relents his tease, his fingertips gently stroking the slick of your anticipation, your head thudding back against the door.  

The wood feels cool and steadying against your body, skin heating up rapidly, a summer tempest beginning to swell as the stroking of your bundle has you purring softly, John’s lips returning to yours. His body melds into your curves, his cock hard at your hip, his touch rousing the little bolts that spark up your spine. He draws all manner of sweet noises from you, and he swallows back every one of them in each kiss, his free arm locking around your waist.  

Lifting you, he carries your barely dressed form to the bed, throwing you down, removing the rest of his clothes as you impatiently pull yourself out of your undies, your stockings shimmied down, receiving his pale skinned, freckle flecked, gorgeous body between your legs. His kisses trail your eager flesh, shifting, hands wandering along the path his lips map, settling at your apex and delving within your folds with a keen, firm drag.  

The wet of each lick has little pin pricks skittering over your nerves, the warmth of it catching quickly, your edges caught in the heat of his flame. The roll of his tongue over your clit is slow and full of heat, hands kneading in soft clench upon your thighs, the outline of him through the dimness of your room gilded in the last of the summer light still reasonably visible.  

He is a feast for your eyes, his wide back and well-bounded bum so peachy, it invites you to sink your teeth into it, if you weren’t so lost in the delirium of his mouth pressed so keenly against your sex. The heat he evokes burns you to your marrow, the scald of your arousal growing as every flicker of his tongue sends flames skittering through you. The addition of his fingers pushing into your cunt has a sweltering flush of pleasure twining through you, your hands reaching to rest either side of his head. 

Neatly shorn stubble prickles at your fingertips, your back arching as he works you with hunger, your dew sparkling upon his fingers. He twists them in a way that has your mouth dropping open, a sound you scarcely believe came from you filling the air, John’s lips wrapping your clit in a suck that is a gentle crush of pillowy heat to begin with, the pull intensifying, little glimmers rushing through you until... 

“Oh!” It tears through you, sudden and overbearing, leaving you trembling, your release still rolling through you as his tongue slows, your fluttering walls pulsing around his fingers, withdrawing them as he sits up, inspecting his sodden hand. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell!” he rumbles, shaking the trails of slick from them, chuckling to himself. “Proper enjoyed that, didn’t ya?” He brings those fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean before grasping your thighs and yanking you closer to where he kneels, a predatory look glinting the blue of his eyes. “Think you’re ready to get fucked now, ain’t ya?” 

“You bloody better,” you mewl, hands trawling his arms as he lowers to you, placing kisses at your sternum. You can feel the head of his cock pressing for entrance, the tip breeching you, but all he gives is a mere inch before pulling back. His mouth closes over your nipple in a warm suck, pushing again, opening you around him, slipping back once more. Oh... you certainly were right. He’s a demon.  

“John, please,” you complain, and he has the gall to give you his most innocent, unassuming look. Damn that baby face.  

“Please what, bab?” 

You chuckle, but it’s pained, hissing a breath when his teeth close upon your nipple. “Please fuck me.”  

“I will, love,” he murmurs, mouth moving to your neck, tongue pressing against where your pulse flickers madly. “Eventually.” His teeth lock in another bite, cock breeching you again, a couple of inches parting your needy, soaking walls this time, twitching before abandoning you again. “Gonna make you desperate for it before I do, though.” 

“And to think, my friend thought you were so adorable,” you quip, body juddering beneath him, John laughing as his tongue swipes over the crescent of each breast, hands smoothing down your back.  

“Your friend don’t fucking know shit.” Indeed, she doesn’t. Your bet? Won already... and he’s barely been inside you.  

His merciless tease continues, and every second of it is agonising to your overstimulated body, your cunt streaming needily, yearning for him to simply fill you. When he finally does, you have to hope that Mr. Taggart, the other lodger there above the shoe shop is out for the night from the cadence of your wail, spread wide around the girth of the gangster who offers kisses steeped in sugared embers, fingers trawling through your hair.  

No matter how dangerous he is, you desire nothing more than to slap him when he retreats once more, chuckling at your pain. “Alright, fine,” he begins, turning you onto your side, moving to lie behind you. “I suppose I’d better play fair, save spitting me teeth.”  

He hauls your leg up so it rests in the cradle of his elbow, hand reaching to grasp his cock. He purposefully rubs himself along your slit, the gloss of your cunt smearing over his thick, veiny shaft, your whimpers reaching crescendo. You need him so badly, you are not above begging, but finally, he plunges into you fully, sating you beautifully. And oh, he feels sublime.  

His other hand reaches beneath your neck, turning your head to meet your lips in kisses that scald you, like a summer heatwave cutting through an arctic chill, moaning against your tongue as he arrows you so deeply, you see stars. The rhythm of his fuck is contained to begin with, each daggering into your soft, dripping warmth allowing you to feel every ridge of his cock, falling then into a tempo that has you gasping against his lips. 

The snap of his hips has your tits heaving, kissing back every little cry, telling you how good you feel around him, how beautiful you look while you’re getting fucked, moaning into your mouth as his hand slides down to begin stroking your clit in time with every deep thrust. You’re adrift from yourself, cast out onto the vast sea that begins to whirl, the storm that is John leaving you feeling unmoored entirely as he splits you deep and fucks you hard.  

“Come on, darlin’. Don’t be shy,” he encourages you, mouth moving to suck a purple welt upon your neck with a deep groan full of smoke and salt. “Let me hear you scream for me.”  

You feel the shiver in your muscles spread as he rails you relentlessly, his sweat slicked chest rubbing against your back as your voice breaks on the scream he fucks out of you, your waves flooding his shore as you come hard for him, every fibre of your being alight, twitching and beaming. He slows, giving you time to recover, sliding from you and turning you over, pulling your hips up before re-entering your molten core from behind.  

Your pleasure is still warming your bones as he begins to fuck you in all out, brutal carnal fury, groaning deep as he splits you around him, hands clasped at your hips, eyes fixed upon the sight of his cock rapidly assailing your soaking little hole. He pants hard, each twitch of his cock tightened upon by the clutch of your walls as he rapidly has you ascending again, coming with him as he paints your insides white, growling cusses as his release blinds him completely.  

You don’t even care about the three shillings you just won; all the prize you need is being turned and pulled into a set of strong arms, sharing kisses with your baby-faced demon as every drop of pleasure he so expertly bestowed upon you ebbs away.  

“Fancy letting me do that to you again sometime?” he asks, and you smirk immediately, turning him onto his back and seating yourself astride him. 

“You aren’t leaving here until you do it to me at least another three times,” you demand, leaning to kiss the centre of his chest, the vibrations from his chuckle tickling your lips.  

“Oh ar, bab. You can count on that.”  

[spnexploration]

Comments

Happy birthday Dean Winchester! Here's a quick one-shot I whipped up to celebrate.

This also fulfils the 'Plus Size' square of my @spnaubingo 2023 bingo card, even though it's 2024... I'm late, I know, but I still want to do some more of it!

Pairing: Dean Winchester x plus sized!reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: Couple of crap comments from a random, some not-great self-esteem and a drunk character, but nothing particularly bad.

Synopsis: A man you're interviewing makes some crap comments about your body, and Dean doesn't help. Can he make it up to you?

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Which one’s the father?” The sleazy guy joked. My stomach dropped.

“Excuse me?!”

“Oh, it’s alright love, I know the real father’s probably suffering somewhere alone while you’re off gallivanting with your workmates. I’m surprised he lets you out, really.”

The urge to punch the witness we were interviewing was overwhelming. Rather than ruin the case, I turned on my heel and marched out.

Fuck that guy. I’m not pregnant and I’m not screwing either of the Winchesters.

I heard Dean’s FBI agent tone of voice as he started speaking behind me. Great to see they were all just moving on with their lives, I thought sarcastically.

---

📱 Where are you? We’re going to the next witness’s house

A text came in from Dean. I read it but didn’t reply.

📱 You ok?

I sighed. Finally, he asks.

📱 Fine. I’ll catch up with you later

I replied. He sent me a thumbs up, I rolled my eyes.

I kicked at the ground and started the walk back into town. Sam and Dean would probably try and make me feel better, but I knew that wasn’t happening. I looked down at my soft, flabby belly that I’d tried multiple times to lose.

I walked.

---

I felt a bit absurd, getting tipsy this early. It wasn’t that I felt like I had to drink to get over the comment. It was just  that I’d gotten back to the motel room and was feeling a bit morose, and there was nothing to do. I’d tapped out of the case and I was bored. I went for another wander and this stupid town had nothing in it but a pub, and so somehow I’d ended up here, starting drinking a lot earlier than normal.

And now I looked like I was drinking my feelings, when I wasn’t.

 Not that there was anyone looking at me anyway.

Well, except in disgust. Who knew how many more people in here thought I was pregnant too. Probably thought I was harming an unborn baby, right now.

Fuck them.

---

“You know there’s still a monster on the loose?” Dean said gruffly, a frown on his face. I guess it’d been easy to find me given how few things there were in this town.

“You struggling without me?” I didn’t think I was slurring too much, but his expression did not improve when I started talking.

“How you going to fight one off like this?” he gestured to me.

“You think a few drinks are why I’m fat?” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not calling you fat, I’m calling you drunk.”

“Right,” I said with an eyeroll.

“Come on, get in the car,” he said, trying to tug my arm.

“Fuck off Dean! I can drink if I want to. There’s nothing else to do in this shithole, anyway.”

He dropped my arm and stomped off to the bar.

I turned back to my drink. Sam came and sat opposite me. You can’t escape the bloody Winchesters.

“Hey, you ok?” he asked with his puppy dog eyes.

“I’m fine. I had a free afternoon, I came to get a drink. Is that fucking crime now?”

“I meant about what happened with the guy. You seemed pretty upset.”

“Surprised you could see that, you were both so busy being silent.”

“Didn’t you hear Dean?”

“How could I hear Dean when he wasn’t saying anything?”

“No, he laid right into the guy.”

“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. I heard Dean get right back into his FBI voice as I walked off.”

“Yeah, he was still in character at first, told the guy that he needed to speak respectfully to Agents. And then when the guy was still a douche he got a bit more Dean and threatened to punch his lights out if he didn’t shut up about you.”

I laughed into my drink. I was sure Sam was embellishing, there was just no way Dean would care that much about someone being mean to me.

Speak of the devil, Dean appeared again, tumbler of whiskey in one hand and a glass of water in the other. He put the water in front of me.

“Thanks, but I don’t accept drinks from strangers,” I said sarcastically.

“I’m not having you hung over tomorrow and being a liability to the case, drink the water.”

“I don’t remember electing you.”

“Jesus, you’re even more belligerent when drunk. Just drink the water and stop moping.”

“I’m not moping!”

“The guy was an asshole, no one thinks you look pregnant. But you can’t just drink yourself blotto and get yourself killed every time someone says something mean to you.”

I stood up, grabbed the glass of water and upended it all over Dean’s face. Then I marched out the door.

The effect was a little ruined by my drunken stagger, though.

---

Sam caught my arm as I got outside. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“I walked myself here, I can walk myself home!”

“I’m pretty sure you were walking in a straight line when you got here though. Come on.”

I let him tug me to the Impala. He must’ve grabbed the keys off Dean before chasing after me.

“He’s just worried about you,” he said gently as we were exiting the carpark. “Doesn’t want you getting hurt.”

“That does not give him a free pass to behave like that.”

---

Dean stood over me, a glass of water and a couple of painkillers in his hands. “Morning, sunshine. Need some relief?”

I gratefully reached out. Man, I did not normally drink that much.

“What time is it?”

 “Time to work the case.”

I groaned, “Can’t you do it without me?”

“No, come on, back on the horse.”

“It’s not the horse that’s the problem, it’s the dog that bit me.”

“I did tell you to drink water,” he said smugly.

“Fuck off!” I threw my pillow at him. He easily deflected but wisely left me alone after that.

I groaned and got off the couch I’d been sleeping on, slumping to the bathroom. The boys were sitting around the tiny table, already dressed and looking at their laptops.

Sam was gone when I came out, freshly showered, dressed and feeling slightly more human. I looked at Dean with a clear question on my face.

“He’s gone for coffee, thought you could use some.”

“Thanks.”

“I, uh,” Dean continued, more hesitantly, “I owe you an apology.”

I crossed my arms across my chest. An apology from Dean was a rare thing, but I was wary it was going to end up being a backhanded insult instead. I often felt like I needed to protect my heart from being hurt by him.

“I was worried about you getting hurt when I saw you were drunk. But I just tried to solve the problem, I didn’t actually talk to you, and I,” he paused, biting his lip, “I shouldn’t do that.”

“Nice to see I’m just a problem,” I replied sarcastically. I wasn’t sure why he was riling me so much, but I still felt so hurt and angry.

He stood up and came over to me. “You’re not a problem,” he said quietly, trying to look into my eyes. I ducked my head away from the intensity of his look. “And I am sorry that asshat upset you.”

“I didn’t get drunk just because some guy called me pregnant, you know.” I could hear how defensive I sounded, despite my best efforts not to.

“It’s a shitty thing he did anyway. You’re beautiful.”

I laughed mirthlessly.

“Don’t do that,” he said quietly. “Don’t put yourself down all the time.”

“Dean, your idea of beautiful is tall, thin, busty and great hair.”

“That’s not true.”

“Well, they’re all thin at least.”

“Who are ‘they’?”

“The women you sleep with, the women you hit on.”

“I can think of many women I’ve hit on who aren’t ‘thin’, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“Suuuure,” I said with an eye roll.

“But I haven’t hit on many women lately, been distracted by one in particular.”

“Let me guess, beautiful?”

“Absolutely.”

“My point exactly. It’s ok Dean, you don’t have to ma-” Dean’s fingers found my chin, nudging it up so I would like at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, looking deep into my eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t made you feel it.”

I stared at him, mouth agape. Absolutely stunned into silence.

“And I’m sorry again that I was a bit of a dick yesterday.”

His face came even closer, watching my reactions.

“You’re my weak spot,” he whispered.

“No, I’m not.” I put my hands on his chest, “Dean, this isn’t funny, don’t tease me.”

He dropped his hand from my chin, looking hesitant. “Sweetheart, I’m putting my heart on the line here, I’m not teasing.”

My hands slackened.

He edged a tiny bit forward.

His tongue darted out and back in. I couldn’t stop staring at his lips.

Was this even real?

How was this happening?

His hand came up to cup my cheek.

I leant forward.

The world suddenly sped up again. Dean moved in, closing the gap between us and bringing his lips to mine. I lost myself in the tenderness of his touch, the softness of his lips, the  exploration of his tongue and mine.

A sudden noise made us pull apart. Sam was standing in the doorway, cardboard holder with coffees in one hand and the other on his hip.

“I’m happy for you guys and all, but we still have a case to work. You can pick this up later.”

.

.

.

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@magssteenkamp

[anmaje]

I have so many Thoughts about S&co Sherlock Holmes, so have my headcanons:

- He was raised, at least partially, by his grandparents. Maybe by the french, maternal grandmother(NAVA). His oldtimey poshness is wonderful, but I can only explain it with some oldmoney, eccentric pensionist giving him a weirdly free, yet emotionally constipated upbringing.

- The houseplants of 221b and a are in pristine health because of him.

- He doesn't have any actual diagnoses. This is basically canon, but I'm putting it on here anyways. He doesn't, but Mycroft does. It's the classic instance of the more "severe case" or "more affected" sibling getting the help they need. And the symptoms of the other "less affected" sibling are overlooked. He also self medicates, which makes sense if he doesn't have access to prescription meds.

- He only wears clothes that fit. Oversized or skinny styles are the inventions of Satan himself. They're straight from sensory hell, and Sherlock agrees with me. He's very picky with fabrics too, preferring natural to synthetic. He detests wool against his skin though, so he wears tights, or long underwear beneath wool trousers in winter. He also gets a lot of clothes adjusted or made by a tailor(Who also did his grandparent's tailoring).

- He shaves his legs and armpits aswell as his face every day.

- If you ask him about his sexuality/gender identity you'll get a "that's none of your business". If John asked him, he'd get a "labels limit the vast expanse of the human experience". In truth he doesn't fucking know, it's weird and muddy, like the rest of his identity. He's read every book on the subject, watched so much porn, had a lot of one night stands, but ultimately comes up with: sex and relationships get in the way of my work, so I'll ignore that. Gender is a social construct, so I get to decide what a man is. And I'm queer, I guess.

- Dogperson

- He plays Mendelsohn for John, like in the canon. Not because John has asked him to(John doesn't know who Mendelsohn is), but because he's made a careful study to garner John's reaction to different composers. He's been doing the same with Mariana, and is slowly but surely honing in on Mozart. Both of these composers bore him, but he doesn't care when it's for his friends <3

- Despite not liking to dance (solitary cyclist part 2), he's very good! He was forced to do ballet and ballroom dancing as a kid. He's mustering up the courage to ask Mariana to dance salsa with him on their next pub escapade, but he always puts it off.

-FRECKLES. A LOT OF 'EM.

[grimmweepers]

a platonic makeup session that gets real heated, real quick.

— ☆ contents: tsubakino x gn!reader. reader also wears makeup. sfw but suggestive at the end. kissing. self-ship coded. 0.8k. not proof-read. masterlist | byf/dni

Being friends with Tsubaki was a constant tease. He had this way of blending elegance with masculinity that always left you in awe. He’d sit there, perfectly poised in a skirt that hugged his hips, with lipstick that seemed to dare you to look at anything else—but beneath all that, there was this unmistakable strength to him. It was a contrast that made you wonder if you’d ever figure him out, or if he even wanted you to.

Today was no different. You both sat cross-legged on the floor of his bedroom, playing with makeup like it was just another casual afternoon. But the air felt different, like it was more charged. Maybe it was the way his manicured nails lingered on your skin for a second too long when he handed you a brush or how his gaze kept drifting down to your lips as you applied gloss. Either way, the curiosity you felt toward him was harder to shake off than usual.

“Hold still,” he said, leaning in close, the sweet, heady scent of him wrapping around you. His fingers tilted your chin up and you had to remind yourself to breathe as he carefully traced eyeliner on your lids.

“Easy for you to say,” you mumbled in response. You were trying your best to stay still even though his face hovered inches from yours. His hold on you was steady but you felt like you could start shaking at any moment.

You snuck a glance through your lashes and found him staring down at you. He was close—too close— and your heart thumped wildly in your chest.

What was he trying to do?

“Done~” he finally said in a sing-song voice.

But neither of you moved. You were practically nose to nose now and the air was impossibly thick. His lips, painted a deep and provocative red, looked far too tempting and for a moment, you both felt something that you couldn’t quite define. Something close to a zap.

“Tsubaki…” you whispered his name with a bit of confusion, a bit of urgency too. But you couldn’t complete your sentence when he leaned in a little more. The tension was so heavy in the room, it could’ve passed as a third presence.

He dropped his shoulders, “I’ve always wondered…” Tsubaki’s hand found your chin again and his thumb brushed over the gloss on your lips, smudging it just slightly.

You could hardly think, let alone speak.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours. Everything else that had occupied your mind beforehand faded away.

The kiss was slow—hesitant, but laced with something that neither of you dared to acknowledge before. His lips were soft but eager, like he was testing the waters, and when you didn't pull away, he deepened the kiss, bringing you closer until you were basically in his lap.

Your hands tangled in his long hair, messing up the waves you helped style earlier as the heat between you flared to life.

The feel of his strong arms around your waist and his exposed thighs cushioning you underneath made you shudder. You found yourself clinging for more, desperate for more.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, lips swollen and stained with each other’s lipstick. The look he gave you made your stomach flip. It was filled with something devilish and reckless, something you normally saw when he was going to perform—whether it was before a fight or at pub ougi.

“You know,” his hands trailed down your side, fingers teasing the edge of your shirt, “…I’ve got a few other things I wouldn’t mind trying on you.” There was a suggestive glint in his eyes, a sneaky pout forming at his lips.

“Like what?” You asked, still maintaining your playfulness.

“Do you really want me to say it?”

You bit your lip, twirling the bit of his hair that had fallen out of place, “Yeah, I do.”

Tsubaki laughed lightky, “It’s been hard pretending like I haven’t felt this way about you. I guess I was just confused,” he admitted as his other hand traced the curve of your jaw, “But now that I’ve got a taste of you, I think I want more—”

“Then don't hold back,” you whispered, your hand resting on his broad shoulders as you spoke. “Show me.”

He couldn’t hide his smile. That was all he needed before his lips crashed against yours with more intensity and hunger. The plush fabric of his skirt bunched up at his thighs while he explored underneath your shirt, trailing fire across your skin.

Tsubaki whimpered into your mouth as you curled your fingers against his chest, his breath hitching when his hand dipped lower, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

You let out a soft moan, aching for more of him. You were more than ready to see how far this would go.

“Thank you,” he tugged you closer, his voice thick with want as he rocked his hips against yours, “Because now I’m dying to know how you feel.”

a/n: i wrote this before bed last night. genuinely losing sleep over him

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

affiliations: @houseofsolisoccasum

divider by @/adornedwithlight

[st-eve-barnes]

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 4

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

This chapter: Michael loses his virginity while you try to fight your unexpected and unwanted feelings for him

Word count: +3600

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Read the first chapters Here

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

You couldn’t stop yourself from replaying that night in the pub over and over again in your head, remembering too vividly how soft Michael’s lips had felt when you kissed him, how good he’d tasted or how warm his shaking hands had felt on your skin. Just thinking about his moans and whimpers in your ear was enough to make you wet at the most inconvenient times of your day.

It wasn’t like you to develop feelings for someone so fast. It wasn’t like you to develop feelings for anyone at all, especially not since Ben. It had never been like this with any other guy. 

But then Michael wasn’t like any of the other guys you had ever been with. 

He confused you and it was completely ridiculous because you did not have a crush on Michael Gavey of all people. Despite his sweet side he was still insufferable and totally self absorbed and he was not your type at all. You had to remind yourself that he was just a means to an end for you, helping you deal with your shitty ex and his threats.

But then why couldn’t you stop thinking about having his dick in your mouth?

You were supposed to distract him, not the other way around.

You didn’t see him again during that week and you were kind of grateful for that, as it allowed you to focus on your classes. But as soon as you left university’s grounds that Friday evening he was right there, leaning against the side of the building, as if he’d been counting the minutes until he could see you again. He was trying to act casual but failing horribly. You couldn’t help but smile when he eagerly walked up to you and gave you a shy awkward smile while fixing his glasses.

”Hey,” he beamed,”Fancy running into you here.”

“Yeah, fancy that,” you laughed,”What’s up, Michael?”

“Not much. It’s Friday.”

“Yes, it is,” you confirmed.

“I was just…wondering if…you were doing anything tonight?”

You had started walking again and he didn’t hesitate to follow you, like an overly enthusiastic lovesick puppy. It was endearing but you didn’t want to give into him right away.

“Crashing in my bed in front of the tv probably,” you blurted out.

“Oh, okay,” he was fumbling with his glasses again, struggling to find his next words,”Would you…like some company?”

You bit your lip but shook your head, your heart wanted nothing more than to take him up on his offer but your mind was a bit more hesitant,”I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Michael.”

You watched his face fall at your rejection but he tried hard not to show it,”Oh…okay. Yeah, okay, I get it.”

“Do you?” you sighed and stopped to look at him.

“Course I get it,” he said, unable to hide how disappointed and bitter he felt,”Last week was a one time thing for you and now you just want me to fuck off and leave you alone, don’t you? Clearly you’ve had better dicks in your mouth and mine wasn’t special. I get it.”

“God,” you sighed in frustration,”How do you always manage to say the absolute worst thing?”

Michael avoided your eyes, his lips quirked up in an awkward, sad smile,”It’s a gift, I guess.”

The sadness in his blue eyes was making your resolve crumble. You hated seeing him feel bad, especially because he’d done nothing to deserve the way you were treating him right now. This wasn’t even about him, it was all about you and your inability to deal with your unexpected feelings towards him.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed,”It’s just…that night at the pub…Maybe we shouldn’t have…I’m sorry, Michael. I never meant to…”

“It’s fine,” he stopped you,”You don’t feel the same way, I understand, you had too much to drink and you just wanted Ben to believe we were fucking, but you don’t really want to…fuck me. Of course you don’t.”

He sighed deflated.“You could have just told me, you know,” he then spoke quietly and with the saddest expression on his face,” If you didn’t want to see me again. If it was all just fake, you should have told me and I would have left you alone.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” you explained. 

“Yeah, well, you did anyway,” he blurted out and then shook his head in regret,”I’m sorry, I’ll just…I’ll leave you alone. It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t fine and as Michael turned his back to you, you realized he wasn’t the only one hurting. You’re not sure what came over you but before you could think about it you reached out to grab the sleeve of his sweater and pull him back to you. 

“Wait,” you spoke softly, letting your eyes meet his,”Wait..I…please don’t go.”

“Why not?” he sighed,”You just said…”

“Because I don’t want you to go,” you interrupted him softly. 

And you meant it. Michael was everything you shouldn’t want but your heart hurt at the thought of him walking away from you right now.

He let out a long, annoyed sigh,”Jesus Christ, girl, first you tell me it was all a mistake and we shouldn’t hang out anymore and now you don’t want me to go? Which is it? Can you make up your fucking mind, hmm?”

“I don’t want you to go,” you repeated, a little louder this time and you kept your eyes on his.

Michael leaned in closer, keeping his gaze on you as well.”Well…what do you want then?” he whispered.

You weren’t sure who kissed who first but the next thing you knew you had your arms wrapped around his neck and his lips on yours in a hot, hungry kiss. Michael didn’t hesitate this time, he grabbed your hips to pull you close to him while his mouth devoured yours, kissing you deeper until he was all that filled your mind and all those doubts were pushed to the background. 

You couldn’t deny the one feeling that remained: you wanted him.

What was it about this nerd that made you so needy for him?

He leaned back to look at you, nothing but hunger in his beautiful blue eyes.“Okay…I’ll ask again, do you want some company tonight? We don’t have to do anything, we can just…hang out.”

You nodded, biting your lip and leaning into him,”Your place or mine?”

“Yours,” he whispered.

***

Michael didn’t have time to look at your small apartment because your mouth was on his as soon as you set foot through the door, and he didn’t seem to mind. His hands wrapped around your waist, kissing you back and pressing himself up against you.

His kisses were still a little awkward but he was growing more bold and confident by the minute.

“I’m sorry,” you leaned back after a while,”I’m sorry. I didn’t…mean to jump you like that.”

Michael just grinned,”I don’t mind. Jump me, do whatever you want with me.”

“Whatever I want, huh?” you smiled and his eyes lit up in excitement at your flirty tone. You grabbed his shirt and pulled him towards the bed with you. “I know you said we don’t have to do anything, and…I’m okay with that. If you just want to watch tv or anything that’s fine by me…but…”

“I just said that so you’d let me come with you,” he interrupted you and then bit his lip, seemingly surprised by his own honesty.

“Oh, did you now?” you were still holding onto his hand,”What do you wanna do then?”

“Well,” he moved closer to you, carefully pushing a lock of your hair behind your ear,”I was thinking…it’s quite unfair that you made me cum last time but…I didn’t get to return the favor.”

You licked your lips and looked up at him,”You want to make me cum, Michael Gavey?”

He nodded his head eagerly and then leaned in to nuzzle your cheek, his breath hot on your skin, “I want you to teach me,” he whispered,”Teach me how to make you feel good.”

His lips found yours in another hungry kiss and suddenly you needed him more than anything. You kissed him back and pulled at his sweater. He interrupted the kiss to take it off and you didn’t waste any time, unbuttoning his shirt next. Michael sighed into the kiss, shivering as your fingers touched his stomach and pushed his shirt over his shoulders.

He followed your lead and started pushing up your sweater, you lifted your arms, helping him to take it off. You moaned softly when his hands found their way underneath your t-shirt to caress your back, fingers tracing patterns on your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“Your hands feel so good,” you hummed softly into his kisses and he moaned in response.

“Fuck,” he was breathing heavily already and you could feel his fingers trembling with every movement.

You reached for his belt but Michael was quick to stop you this time.“No, not yet,” he pulled back to look at you,”You first. Please.”

His voice broke with his last word and it only spurred you on.

You carefully pulled down your jeans and took off your t-shirt, leaving only your panties and bra on as you moved to lay down on the bed, keeping your eyes on him. Michael didn’t know where to look first, his eyes moving from your breasts down to your panties and then back up to your face. He looked so helpless standing before you, his hands nervously balled next to him, not knowing what to do with them.

“Come here,” you reached out your hand to him. He was quick to take it and let you help him on the bed, but not before removing his shoes and cargo pants. You smiled at his tiny white boxers, already showing a very prominent bulge.

You pulled him into your arms and into another kiss and then your legs wrapped around him, letting you feel his clothed erection against your panties. The both of you moaned into the kiss, hips moving on instinct. You could feel every vein and every throb of his cock against your clit, even through he layers still separating you both. Michael was quickly grinding against you like an animal in heat, his breath growing heavier with every roll of your hips.

“Fuck,” he whimpered,”We need to slow down, please, I don’t want this to be over too soon.”

You halted your movement to look at him, giving an encouraging nod,”It’s okay, we can go slow.”

He nodded in relief and moved from in between your legs to lay down next to you. You couldn’t help but whimper at the loss of contact but then he softly started kissing your neck.”Show me,” he whispered heavily against your ear,”Show me how to touch you…please….I need to make you feel good.”

“Touch me, right here,” you covered his hand with yours and guided him in between your legs, and into your panties, until his fingers brushed over your clit. You both moaned at the first contact and Michael’s eyes went wide.

“That feel good?” he asked softly,”Right there?”

You nodded and bit your lip to keep from moaning out loud.”Use two fingers,” you instructed him,”And just…move them over my clit in circles, like that…fuck yes.”

He eagerly did as you asked but he was a little too enthusiastic. You grabbed his hand to stop him with a little yelp,”Not so fast!’

“God, I’m so sorry…oh shit did I hurt you?” he blushed and stumbled over his words, his hand shaking suddenly.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him and gently cupped his neck, giving him an encouraging smile,”Don’t worry about it. Just…focus on the movement, not the pressure, you need to build it up. Start slow, and soft. You’ll know when I want you to go faster.”

He nodded and placed his fingers back on your clit, circling your bud ever so gently now, keeping his eyes on you to read your reactions.

Michael was a quick study, which shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you. Within a few minutes he had you on the edge of your first orgasm using only his fingers. You were breathing hard, fingers digging into his neck while your hips bucked up against his hand for more friction.

“Faster,” you breathed.

He obeyed enthusiastically, adding a little more pressure and rubbing quick circles now, pushing you towards that edge.

“Fuck,” you breathed,”god, that feels so good…please….please kiss my neck…I need your mouth on me.”

He nuzzled your neck gently, his breath hot against your skin, making you squirm underneath him. Then his lips latched onto your collarbone, licking and teasing your skin and covering you in wet, open mouthed kisses. Combined with his fingers it was enough to send you toppling over the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you begged,”Please don’t stop…I’m so close…so close…”

He increased pressure on your clit and sucked on your skin and you came with his name on your lips, back arching off the bed.

Michael was breathing heavily as he looked up at you, face completely flushed and his glasses all fogged up,”Fuck…you can come just from that?”

“Hmm,” you nodded with a blissed out grin.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he leaned in to kiss your lips, his kisses sloppy and wet and absolutely perfect. His fingers were still teasing your clit, making a new wave or arousal emerge quickly.

“Take off my panties,” you whispered into his kiss.

With shaking hands he did as you asked, pushing them down your legs, you took off your bra as well, leaving you completely bare for him. 

Michael’s eyes took in every inch of you while he licked his lips and then his hand was back between your legs, spreading your folds and finding your entrance.

“Can I put a finger in you?” he begged,”Please…please, I’ll be gentle.”

Then he kissed your lips again, slow this time.

“Show me,” he whispered,”Show me how you like it.”

You guided his hand lower and urged his finger inside of you, both of you gasping at the sensation.

“Oh shit,” Michael breathed,”Oh god, it’s so wet…is it supposed to be this wet?”

You nodded with a smile,”Wet is good. Wet means I want you.”

His pupils grew dark with lust at your words. “I want you too,” he whispered,”You have no idea how badly I want you.”

His finger was teasing your walls, slowly pumping in and out of you and then back up to your clit.

“Add another finger,” you urged him.

Watching his long, slender fingers disappear into your pussy was a sight to behold and it turned you on even more.

“Now curl your fingers a little bit,” you told him.

“Like this?” he asked, following your instructions perfectly and finding that spot with ease. A proud grin spread on his face when your head fell back into the pillow with a deep moan.

“Yes,” you whimpered,”Just like that….holy shit…right there…oh god, you’re so fucking good at this.”

“Yeah?” Michael asked with another smug grin on his flushed face.

“Put your thumb back on my clit,” you pleaded.

“You gonna come again?”

“Yes,” you moaned, gripping the sheets and falling into your second orgasm,”Yes….yes…”

Michael watched you with hooded eyes, rutting against the bed to offer himself some relief but determined to keep his focus only on you. He didn’t stop until you were a whimpering mess clinging to this back and burying your face into the crook of his neck.

He hugged you gently and let his fingers caress your back and your hair, letting you come down from your high.

“So, did I pass?” he then asked softly.

“With flying colors so far,” you smiled and pressed your forehead to his,”But…there’s one final test.”

You stared into his eyes and watched how his breathing picked up instantly at your words. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him back between your legs and then pushed his boxers down over his ass.

He was rock hard and leaking against your inner thigh. His forehead pressing back against yours and he moaned shamelessly when the tip of his cock brushed up against your entrance.

“Can I?” he asked in a soft whisper.

“Ask me nicely,” you teased.

“Please,” he begged,”Please can I fuck you? Please, I’ll be so gentle, I swear…I want to be inside you so bad, please let me fuck you.”

You cupped his face and pushed his sweaty hair back on his head, giving him a teasing smile.”I don’t want you to be gentle,” you then whispered and you wrapped your legs around him, sinking down on his cock.

Michael’s heavy moans filled the room and for a moment you thought he was going to fall apart right there but then he started moving his hips, fucking into you slowly.

“Wait, wait,” he whimpered,”I don’t have a condom.”

“That’s okay, I’m clean and on the pill,” you reassured him. “And I think you’re clean as well,” you added with a grin.

“Pathetically clean,” he joked with a muffled moan.

He cupped your face and then moved his hand over your neck, down to your breasts, squeezing softly while he started fucking you a little faster.

“That feel good?” he checked.

All you could do was nod and hold onto his shoulders as he sank deeper into you with every snap of his hips. It felt entirely too good to have him fill you up like this.

“Does it feel good for you?” you asked softly.

He nodded while biting his lip, smiling down at you.”Too good,” he then whispered, squeezing your tits again while his mouth devoured your neck. His kisses were sloppy and desperate and he was breathing so hard in between you knew he was close.

“Fuck,” he moaned,”I’m not gonna last…I’m…oh god…I’m sorry…I’m gonna…”

You were just as close as he was, clenching around him already, unable to hold it off any longer. “It’s okay, let go,” you breathed, pressing your forehead against his,”Let go, baby.”

He came with a quiet whimper followed by more moans as your own orgasm crashed over you as well. Both of you clinging to each other and breathing heavily until it was all over.

“Holy shit,” Michael whispered after a while,”That was…holy shit.”

You laughed and gently pushed him off of you. “Was that everything you imagined it would be?”

“So much more,” he grinned, putting his glasses back up all the way while he moved to lay down beside you on the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. The satisfied grin that remained plastered on his face made you laugh.

But then he gave you a more serious look, his voice soft when he returned the question,”Was that….everything you imagined it would be?”

His question took you by surprise but you eventually nodded your head.”Yeah,” you whispered,”It was.”

Michael leaned in to place a slow, lingering kiss on your lips, making you feel those conflicting feelings again. You tried to remind yourself that this was just sex and nothing more. Michael was just a horny virgin wanting to get laid and you just wanted to get your ex off your back. There was no other reason why this had happened. 

Michael gently cupped your face and looked deep into your eyes.”Can I stay?” he whispered.

You softly placed your hand over his but then shook your head with a sigh,”I don’t think that’s a good idea, Michael.”

He nodded but you could tell by his sudden, sad expression how your words shattered him. He would never show it to you though.

“Alright,” he nodded,”If that’s what you want.”

“I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” you tried to explain yourself.

“What’s the wrong idea?” he asked, taking his hands off you and leaning back against the wall, creating some distance between you two. 

The loss of his warmth on your skin made you shiver instantly and you pulled up the blanket to cover yourself.

You sighed,“I don’t want you to think that this is more than…what it is.”

“And what is it?” 

You let your eyes meet his,”You know what this is. I’m using you and…”

“I’m really not complaining,” he finished your sentence for you, putting a little smile on your face.”Besides,” he added,”I’m using you just the same.”

“Right,” you nodded.

“Listen, if you want me to go, I’ll get dressed and leave you to your night,” he continued in a calm voice,”But…if you let me stay and give me a few minutes we could do it again, practice some more. I can do better, I know I can.”

“Always the overachiever, huh?” you teased but he was looking at you with those hungry eyes again and you knew you were lost.

“We could do it slower this time, I’ll make it feel so much better for you, if you let me,” Michael continued, growing more confident with each word when he noticed your breathing speeding up,”I think…there’s a lot more you could teach me so…we could help each other out. I help you get your ex off your back and in return you teach me everything you know about sex.”

He placed his hand on your thigh and looked deep into your eyes.“What do you say, sweetheart?” he whispered,”Will you tutor me? I'll be such a good student, I swear.”

When he bit down on his lip and moved his hand up your leg, you caved.

[whereforarthur]

Tummy Obsessed Much?

A/n: George said in a tik tok that he loves a girls tummy and I just couldn’t get the idea to write about that out of my head, so here it is

Pairing: George Clarke x reader

Category: Smut and Fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

*****

The human body is the best work of art. -Jess C. Scott

"You know what, George?" She giggled, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "You're obsessed with my stomach."

George looked up from his phone, his other hand absently tracing circles on her belly. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it. "What? No, I'm not," he protested, his cheeks flushing a gentle pink.

Y/n sat up in bed, pushing her messy hair out of her face. "Yes, you are. Every time we're together, you're always touching it." She took his hand in hers, bringing it to her lips for a soft kiss. "It's sweet, really."

George's smile grew sheepish. "I just like how it feels, I guess." He paused, his thumb ghosting over the smooth skin. "It's like...I dunno. It's comforting."

Y/n's eyes searched his, a warmth spreading through her. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

He nodded, his gaze dropping to their intertwined fingers. "It's just...I've never felt this way about anyone before. It's like your tummy is this perfect little island of us." He took a deep breath, the words tumbling out. "Every time I touch it, it's like I'm grounding myself in you."

Her heart fluttered at his confession, the sincerity in his voice making her feel cherished. She leaned into him, pressing her forehead against his. "I'm happy you feel that way, George. But why just my stomach?"

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with affection. "Because it's so sexy and revealing when you wear those crop tops." He sat up, placing his hand over hers, his fingers drawing patterns across her bare skin. "Every time you wear one, it's like a secret treasure map leading to this spot."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully, but couldn't help the blush that spread from her neck to her cheeks. She loved wearing crop tops, especially when they went out. They highlighted the small butterfly tattoos she had gotten on a whim last summer.

As George continued to trace her stomach, she leaned back into the pillows, feeling the coolness of the fabric against her bare skin. The room was bathed in the soft glow of the streetlight outside their window, casting long shadows across the bed. The city sounds of London hummed in the background, a familiar lullaby that soothed them both.

Y/n felt a thrill at his words, a shiver running down her spine. She had always felt confident in her own skin, but knowing that George found her belly so alluring added a new layer to her self-image. It was a simple act, but it spoke volumes about his attraction to her, his love for the way she looked, and the comfort she brought him.

*****

The next time they went out, she picked out a crop top that was particularly revealing, one that made her stomach look toned and inviting. She paired it with high-waisted jeans and her favorite pair of ankle boots. The fabric was soft, almost silky, and hugged her body in all the right places. As they walked down the bustling streets of London, George couldn't keep his eyes off her, his gaze lingering on the sliver of skin peeking out from beneath her shirt.

They decided to grab a bite at a cozy pub they had been meaning to try. The scent of roasting meat and yeasty beer filled the air, making their stomachs growl in unison. They ordered a couple of pints and a plate of nachos to share, their laughter echoing in the warm, dimly lit space. As they talked and laughed, George's hand found its way to her stomach again, his thumb tracing the outline of her belly button.

The conversation flowed easily, the comfortable silence between them filled with gentle touches and soft smiles. Y/n felt a sense of belonging, as if her stomach was indeed a map to a place only they could find together. The way George looked at her, the way his eyes lit up every time he touched her, made her feel like the most beautiful person in the room.

As they sat in the pub, enjoying their food and drinks, she couldn't help but feel a thrill every time his hand touched her skin. It was as if they were sharing a secret, a silent language that no one else could understand. She leaned into his touch, her body responding to his affection with a warmth that radiated outwards.

"You wore this on purpose, didn't you?" George murmured, his eyes never leaving her stomach. His voice was low and teasing, a smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n pretended to look offended, but the glint in her eye gave her away. "What? This old thing?" She plucked at the fabric of her crop top, feigning innocence. "It's just what I grabbed from the wardrobe."

George's smirk grew wider. "Yeah, sure it is." He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. "But I'm not complaining." His hand slid under the hem of her shirt, his fingertips dancing along the waistband of her jeans.

Y/n felt a rush of excitement, the warmth in her cheeks spreading to the rest of her body. She placed her hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Well, if it's working, then maybe I'll have to make it a habit."

George's eyes darkened, his voice dropping an octave. "Just don't say I didn't warn you." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her neck. "I might not be able to keep my hands to myself."

Y/n shivered, the anticipation building. She knew that look in his eyes, the one that promised a night of passion and love. But she also knew George well enough to understand that his self-control had its limits, especially when it came to her. She smirked, feeling a thrill at the thought of pushing those boundaries. "I'll take that risk," she whispered, leaning into his touch.

Her hand began to wander up his thigh, her fingertips lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. George's breath hitched, his grip on her stomach tightening. The pub's atmosphere was forgotten as their eyes locked, the air between them charged with a magnetic pull. The music and chatter of the other patrons faded into the background, replaced by the thud of their racing hearts.

"You're playing with fire, you know," George warned, his voice thick with desire.

Y/n giggled, the sound sending a delicious shiver down his spine. She knew exactly what she was doing and reveled in the power she had over him. "I like the heat," she whispered, her hand sliding up his thigh a little further.

The tension in the air was palpable, the energy between them crackling like a live wire. George swallowed hard, his hand moving to the small of her back, his thumb brushing the bare skin just above her jeans. The touch was electric, sending jolts of desire through her body. She could feel the heat radiating from him, the way his body leaned into hers, seeking more contact.

With a final squeeze of her hand, George leaned back, tossing some bills onto the table. "Come on," he murmured, his voice a gruff whisper that sent a thrill through her. He didn't wait for a response, standing up and pulling her to her feet. Y/n didn't resist, her heart racing with excitement.

*****

They stepped out into the cool London night, the alleyway just a few paces away. It was dimly lit, the flicker of distant street lamps throwing shadows across the cobblestone path. The air was thick with the scent of rain, the promise of a storm hanging just out of reach. George's hand was firm in hers, pulling her into the shadows.

The moment they were out of view, he spun her around, pressing her back against the brick wall. His eyes were dark with desire, his breathing ragged. "You're driving me crazy," he growled, his hand sliding back up to her bare stomach.

Y/n's eyes danced with mischief. "Is that so?" She reached up, looping her arms around his neck, her fingertips grazing the short hairs at the base of his skull. "And what are you going to do about it?"

George's hand slid up her side, his thumb grazing the edge of her crop top. He leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both fiery and tender. His other hand found her hip, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. The feel of her against him was intoxicating, the softness of her skin a stark contrast to the roughness of the wall behind her.

Y/n moaned softly, her body responding instinctively to his touch. Her own hands roamed his back, her nails digging in as she pulled him closer. The kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as their breaths mingled in the damp air. The anticipation was exquisite, the promise of more making her knees weak.

George's hand slipped under her shirt, his calloused fingers exploring the warm, soft skin of her stomach. His touch was gentle but firm, as if he was worshipping the very essence of her. Y/n arched into him, her body begging for more. The coolness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, the chilly air raising goosebumps along her exposed flesh.

But just as their passion threatened to spill over into something more, George pulled away, his breaths coming in short gasps. "No," he murmured, his voice strained. "Not here. Not like this." He rested his forehead against hers, his eyes searching hers in the dim light.

Y/n's own breath hitched, surprised by his sudden restraint. But she could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between desire and respect. "Okay," she whispered, her voice shaky with anticipation. She knew he was right; the alley was not the place for this.

They broke apart, their chests heaving. George stepped back, his hand dropping to his side, his eyes still locked on hers. "Let's go home," he said, his voice low and rough. The need in his eyes was unmistakable.

Y/n nodded, her heart racing with excitement. She took his hand once more, and together they hurried down the alley, the cobblestones cool under their feet. The rain had started to fall, light droplets that kissed their skin and melded with their shared heat. The air was charged with the scent of damp earth and the electricity of their desire.

*****

By the time they reached their flat, the rain had picked up, soaking their clothes and plastering their hair to their faces. But neither of them cared. They stumbled through the door, breaking apart only long enough to kick off their wet shoes and shrug off their damp coats. The warmth of the apartment was a stark contrast to the chilly night outside, wrapping around them like a welcoming embrace.

George led her into the living room, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned down, his hands sliding up her sodden shirt to expose her stomach once again. His fingertips traced the path they had so often followed, his touch feather-light and reverent. Y/n's skin was goose-pimpled with cold and desire, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

He kissed her stomach, his lips lingering on the soft curve. "I love you," he murmured against her skin. "Every inch of you." His words sent a shiver down her spine, the warmth of his breath a stark contrast to the chilly rainwater that clung to her.

Her hands found the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head. The sight of his bare chest, the muscles defined from his work outs, made her pulse race even faster. They had spent countless hours in this very room, exploring each other's bodies and sharing their deepest secrets. Yet every time felt like the first, a thrilling dance of discovery that never grew old.

George's hand slipped behind her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her in for another kiss. It was deep and hungry, a silent declaration of his love and lust. His other hand trailed down her back, finding the button of her jeans. With a deft twist, he popped it open, the zipper following with a metallic whisper.

Y/n's breath hitched as she felt the coldness of the room dissipate with the warmth of his touch. Her own hands found the buttons of his jeans, her fingers fumbling in their haste. They stumbled towards the bedroom, their kisses growing more urgent with each step. The rain outside grew heavier, the sound of it a soothing backdrop to their passionate reunion.

Once in the bedroom, they shed their remaining clothes with a desperate urgency, the wet fabric sticking to their skin as it fell to the floor. The room was lit only by the occasional flash of lightning, casting a stark, white light across the room before plunging them back into darkness. It was a dance of shadow and light that mirrored their own tumultuous emotions.

The bed was a beacon of warmth and comfort in the stormy night, and George pulled Y/n down onto the soft mattress. She straddled him, her hands exploring his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath her palms. His eyes never left hers, the love and desire in them as potent as the scent of the rain-drenched city outside their window.

Their kisses grew deeper, more frantic, as they rediscovered each other's bodies. George's hands slid up her thighs, the warmth of his skin a stark contrast to the coolness of hers. He cupped her hips, his thumbs brushing against the damp fabric of her panties. Y/n gasped into his mouth, her hips rocking against his touch.

He slid the wet fabric aside, his fingertips dancing over her sensitive skin. She was already wet for him, her arousal a slick invitation that had him groaning into her neck. His touch grew bolder, one finger slipping inside her, his other hand gently caressing her clit. Her breath hitched, her body tightening around him.

Y/n’s hips began to move, riding his hand in a silent plea for more. Her nails scored his shoulders, leaving half-moons in his skin. George’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming in harsh pants. He could feel her building, her muscles clenching around his finger, her breaths coming faster and faster.

With a final, desperate kiss, he positioned himself at her entrance, feeling the slick heat of her arousal. He pushed into her, their bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle that had been separated for too long. Y/n’s eyes widened with pleasure, her back arching as he filled her completely. The storm outside mirrored the tempest within them, the thunder a drumbeat to their passion.

They moved together, their rhythm syncing as if they had been doing this for an eternity. The rain lashed against the windows, a natural symphony that accompanied their intimate melody. George’s hand found her stomach again, the skin now slick with sweat and rainwater. He traced the taut muscles, feeling her body respond to his every touch.

Her breath grew ragged, her eyes never leaving his as she rode the wave of pleasure he created. His thumb circled her belly button, the sensation sending jolts of electricity straight to her core. She felt her orgasm building, a crescendo that was both terrifying and exhilarating. The storm outside grew wilder, the thunder clapping in time with their hearts.

George watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open in silent cries of ecstasy. He felt her tighten around him, her body a symphony of sensation. His own climax was approaching, the pressure building like a dam ready to burst. He whispered sweet nothings into her ear, his hand moving to her hip, guiding her movements, urging her closer to the edge.

Their bodies were slick with sweat, the sound of their skin slapping together in time with the storm's tempo. The rain pounded against the windows, a cacophony that only served to amplify their passion. Y/n's nails dug into his shoulders, leaving marks that would linger for days. They were both lost in the moment, in the fiery dance of love that had become so familiar yet remained so intoxicating.

Her breath grew shallower, her hips moving faster against him. George could feel the tension in her body, the tightening of her muscles around him. He knew she was close, her stomach muscles quivering under his hand. With a final, deep thrust, he watched as the pleasure overtook her. Her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth forming a silent scream as she climaxed, her body shaking with the force of it.

The sensation of her release was too much for him to bear. He followed her over the edge, his own orgasm ripping through him like a thunderclap. He pulled out just in time, his warm seed spilling onto her stomach. The sight of it, the proof of their union, was incredibly erotic, a visual representation of their love and desire.

Y/n's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt him come, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her climax. She watched, transfixed, as his hand moved to his cock, his thumb catching the last drops of his essence. He leaned down, pressing his sticky fingers against her skin, painting her belly with the evidence of their passion.

The warmth of his release was a stark contrast to the coolness of her stomach, and she gasped as the sensation sent a new wave of pleasure through her. "George," she breathed, her voice still shaky from her orgasm. He chuckled, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he traced the pattern of his desire across her abdomen.

He leaned in, his mouth capturing hers in a gentle kiss that spoke of love and tenderness. Y/n could taste the faint saltiness of him, and she felt her heart swell with emotion. The storm outside had reached its crescendo, the rain pummeling the windows like a million tiny fists. Yet, in the quiet sanctity of their bedroom, they were the only two people that mattered.

George pulled away, his eyes never leaving hers. He admired her stomach, now adorned with the evidence of their passion. The muscles quivered slightly, a testament to the intensity of their lovemaking. He reached for the bedside tissue box, pulling out a soft wad of paper. With a gentle touch, he began to clean her up, wiping away the sticky remnants of their love.

His eyes were full of adoration as he took care of her, his movements deliberate and tender. Every stroke of the tissue was a silent declaration of his love, a promise to cherish every part of her. Y/n watched him, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. The intimacy of the moment was as potent as the storm outside, the quietness of their actions speaking louder than any words could.

When he was done, George couldn't resist leaning in to press a soft kiss to her stomach, his lips lingering on her skin. "You know," he said with a mischievous grin, "you're going to have to start charging me rent for all the time I spend here."

Y/n giggled, her body still humming with pleasure. "Rent, huh?" She trailed her fingers through his hair, feeling the dampness from the rain. "What do you think I should charge?"

George considered it, his expression thoughtful. "A lifetime's worth of snuggles and kisses?"

Y/n's laugh was breathless. "Sounds like a fair trade." She leaned down to kiss him, her hand still resting on his cheek. The warmth of his skin was a stark contrast to the coolness of her belly, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of completion, of home.

They settled into the warm cocoon of the bed, the storm outside growing more distant as their bodies grew closer. George wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest. Her head found its familiar resting place on his shoulder, his heartbeat a comforting lullaby. The rain had slowed to a gentle patter, the occasional rumble of thunder a soothing reminder of the world outside their bubble.

It was in these quiet moments that George felt most alive, most connected to her.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23

A/n: Tiktok inspiration https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZP81S7cEA/

[pjackk]

Whenever the danny boys and i wana have a good drive & spend the whole week trying a be aou true selves in a no jugement setting doing wat we want for pleasure nothing held back and Big danny Russet & me are driving up to phillie since Lil Danny is on house arrest for shit he didnt een do by the way cuz im pretty sure there was not any evidense left when we were done i notice that the booshie ass restaunts and other shit and theres barely any trash left on the ground and U know its because the hollywood infestation of the big apple is spreading and infecting the rest of the so called world HOLLYWOOD is no longer contain to inide NY and now the cameras are rolling everywhere U go theres no safety BDR told me they keep closing down all da irish pubs with all da sexiest paddys/"Leprocons" i ever dam seen to make movie stores and camera stores since i guess #MadnessOfFilm is making all of the dam city dancing like a dam crazy fool for this nonsens no where left to get a guiness with that sweet silky silk and now well guess what everyone thinks they can make it big round these parts and pro tip if everybody makes it then nobody does there R losers N winners here and not everyoby deserves to be struttin there stuff i cant find no good private spaces for smoking thaty self care no more since id dosnt matter which alley or parkbush u choose u will have some kid trying to make a humiliation movie of U since they all think they can make it big now U got fools online torteuring U online all day since i gues everybody is a pieece of shit now the days well everybody that isnt woke like u #SavePhilly #SaveNYC #TearDoiwnTinseltown #PutDownTheCameras

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

TOM GLYNN-CARNEY INTERVIEWED FOR DEADLINE MAGAZINE.

IS THAT YOU LYING IN BED IN EPISODE 5, GETTING THE BURNT VALYRIAN STEEL PEELED OFF OF YOUR BODY?

"It certainly is me."

I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD. SO YOU'RE NOT DEAD YET?

"I say a word … unless dead people can speak."

SO YOU ARE SURE AS YOU'RE SITTING HERE, YOU ARE NOT DEAD.

"I’m not dead yet."

LET'S BACK UP TO THE DAY WHEN YOU SHOT THAT EPIC DRAGON FIGHT.

"Well, that day was, in fact, probably about three weeks work, trying to get all these certain angles and these set pieces together."

"It takes a while to coordinate something like that."

"And it was great fun."

"It was a little different."

"The stuff I had to do previously with the big dialogue, the heavy council scenes and the moments in the pub … that felt more theatrical."

"And by theatrical, I don’t mean hammy and stuff, I mean being in theater and doing a play."

"But this [dragon fight] felt very filmic, being strapped into this crane and having this big camera on a long hydraulic arm thrown in your face."

"There were lots of green screens and gray screens and tennis balls on sticks and wind machines."

"It was great."

"It was a big learning curve for me as well, because I’ve never done anything quite as elaborate as that before in terms of CGI work."

DO YOU THINK CRISTON SAW WHAT AEMOND DID TO AEGON'S DRAGON IN THAT FIGHT? THAG AEMOND IS TO BLAME?

"Criston definitely sees Aegon on the ground and Aemond near him with his sword drawn."

"So he can make his own mind up about Aemond’s intentions, which is still unclear even to me."

"I’m not sure the story was there."

"There could be various outcomes."

WHAT HAS IT BEEN LIKE TO PLAY SOMEBODY WHO'S SO BLOODY UNLIKABLE?

"So you’re not team Aegon, then?"

"Who wants to be liked?"

"Where’s the fun in that?"

"I think it’s great playing someone like Aegon because he’s so unpredictable."

"He’s so volatile."

"He’s not just someone who people don’t like."

"He’s a tragic case."

"He’s a complete and utter tragedy of a person, and I feel deeply, deeply sorry for him."

"And I guess that’s kind of why I’ve wanted to investigate his vulnerabilities, his fragilities and his boyishness, all the things that he lacks in his life that kind of inform his decisions, that have given him a certain reputation."

"There’s a lot to unpack in him."

"He’s way more layered and complex than just an unlikable character."

IT'S BEEN AN INTERESTING JOURNEY WATCHING AEGON AND AEMOND BECAUSE THEY'RE OBVIOUSLY BAD KIDS, WHICH DOESN'T MAKE SENSE BECAUSE IT'S NOT LIKE THEIR DAD WAS AN AWFUL GUY. SO WHERE DOES THAT BADNESS COME FROM?

"I dunno."

"I mean, they’ve got Targaryen blood running through them, so there’s going to be an element of madness somewhere."

"I think if they had a different upbringing and a different experience of childhood, things may have been different."

"If they had the treatment that Rhaenyra got, for example, their lives could be different."

"She was very much the golden child."

"She came first."

"She was the one whose picture was on the fridge."

"So yeah, I think that in many ways they’re a product of their history and their upbringing."

"But then again, they’re spoiled as well."

"They’ve never had to work for anything and that can have its effects."

"That’s probably a question for a psychologist, not for me."

WHY DOES HE DISLIKE HIS BROTHER SO MUCH?

"I don’t think he does."

BUT HE WAS SUCH A SHIT TO HIM IN THAT BROTHEL SCENE.

"That’s brothers."

"Aegon was pissed off that for weeks that Aemond has been in the small council and he’d been conniving and plotting with Criston behind his back."

"That kind of clique-ness and keeping Aegon out of the situation for Aemond’s own self-gain, knowing that Aegon would take over the position of King should he get the opportunity, Aegon needed to bring him down a peg."

"I don’t think it come from a place of disliking him."

It comes from a place of being like, ‘you are my little brother, know your place.’

"It’s dismissiveness and also, I’m from Manchester."

"From where I’m from, there are so many sibling relationships that are completely flawed and fractured."

"It’s very normal for me."

"I’m lucky I have a great relationship with my sibling, but it’s very normal and not out of the ordinary at all for you to see two siblings who actively want to hurt each other."

"It doesn’t come from hatred."

"That’s just the way people behave."

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Two

Summary: You decide to finally do something for yourself and ease your mind Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Not too much for this chapter in particular besides mentions of domestic violence BUT yändere, manipulation, self harm, cheating, explicit language, smut, angst throughout the rest of the story a/n: Since you guys seem to be really liking this story I worked hard to get chapter two out quickly! Let me know what you think! p.s. Fuck me y'all I literally deleted chapter 2 but luckily I write on wattpad and I was able to restore it. I was literally about to cry Requested by the lovely: @kkusadmirer 💜

We had another fight. 

Honestly I don't even remember what it was about, something stupid like I left the door open after I came in with the groceries and forgot to lock it. Or maybe it was the fact that I actually left the house and got them instead of just ordering them to get dropped off on the doorstep. 

He always tells me it's too dangerous out there or that I should just wait for him to go with me instead. If I did that though we would never have any food here and I'm not about to order takeout for every meal. 

I don't understand why leaving the door open would be such an issue. We live in a relatively nice complex and our neighbors always make sure to look out for me so I don't understand why something as simple as that could set him off. 

But then again it doesn't take much to set him off these days, I guess it was something I should've expected. 

He hasn't been home for two days and at this point I've decided that maybe it's time I went out for the night. Nothing crazy or anything but just, out. 

Putting on yet another turtleneck I make sure that the old and new marks are covered. I've taken it a step further and put some makeup on to make sure that no one will notice. Although I doubt anyone would notice me anyways since I usually fade into the background. 

But tonight isn't about feeling insecure in myself. Tonight is the night where I finally do something on my own and get out of the house. 

Taking out my phone I look up the address for the local pub I've decided to go to, making sure to wear comfortable boots since it's a little ways away. I'm luck that it's winter right now so bundling up is normal, making my outfit even less suspicious. 

Taking a couple of deep breaths I reach for the handle, unlock the door and step outside. 

'Should I really be doing this?' I question but before I'm able to second guess myself I hear our next door neighbor unlock her door as well and step outside her door.

"Oh, y/n. What a pleasant surprise! It's been a while since I've seen your pretty face" she says scanning my features, clearly having heard the fight we had had the other day and making sure that I look okay. 

"Hi Mrs. Mitchell. How have you and Mr. Mitchell been?" I ask, returning her warm greeting but feeling awkward talking to someone that isn't Taehyung or my editor. 

"As well as we could be I suppose. Harry just turned 73 last month so he's been complaining about how old he his and how his knees don't work the way they used to. What can you expect when you get to our age?" she says, chuckling at her husband who is a few years younger than her.

"Seems like no matter how old men get, they still whine and complain whenever they get sick or injured" she continues, clearly trying to lighten my spirits. "I guess so" I say, not daring to bad mouth Taehyung since he's probably already gotten a pretty bad reputation around here with everything we've been through over the past few years. 

Sometimes I'm surprised by the fact that we haven't gotten evicted with all of the noise complaints we've gotten. 

He always makes me answer each and every call from our building even though he's the one responsible for a majority of the noise but he always makes sure to stand close by to make sure I don't ask them to send help no matter how severe things have gotten. 

"Where are you off to?" she asks taking note of the fact that it's getting late in the evening. "I figured I might just head over to the pub a few streets down and see if I can clear my head for a while" I say, not bothering to give more information than necessary. Not that there would be any more information to give. 

"Good for you dear! It's always good to go out and get a new perspective on life. Let me know anytime if you need any help alright? Oh and I'm so excited to read your next book!" she says and with that last part catching me off guard. "You've read my books?" I question, taken aback and almost embarrassed at the fact that a woman of her age would be reading the type of genre I write, let alone my own. 

"Of course dear! As soon as I found out that you were a writer I went straight to the bookstore and bought all of them! You really are very talented" she finishes, with a glimmer of admiration in her eye. 

"Thank you so much, your support means the world to me, truly" I finish and she quickly shoo me off, apologizing for holding me hostage. 

"Next time I see you I'll sign your copies if you'd like" I offer and the look on her face is absolutely priceless. 

"I'll make sure to have them sitting by the front door with a pen in hand!" she beams and I wave one last goodbye before I make my way to my destination. 

~~~~

Walking in the doors of The Blue Pearl I'm greeted by the sound of soft rock being played in the background and a low murmur of the small amount of people spread through out. This pub seems to be a little old fashioned so I guess it's not a big draw for the younger rowdier crowds. Which was exactly what I was looking for. 

Just a slow night to clear my head and a strong drink to drown my sorrows. Knowing me though I'll probably stop after one or two drinks. 

I decide to sit at the bar on the stool closest to the wall and wave the bartender over. 

"Surprise me, something sweet but something strong" I say trying to sound as confident as I can. "You got it" she says and comes back soon with a pink drink of some sort a few moments later. "What is this?" I ask after taking a sip, already dying for another one at the fruity but subtly sweet drink. 

"I like to call it The Slut Puppy" she says with a proud smile. I tilt my head when I look at her, confused as to how she came up with the name. "I'm still workshopping it to be honest but your reaction to the name definitely played true to the puppy part. I laugh realizing that I subconsciously played into her game and she laughs right along with me. 

"Long night?" she asks after I've settled in, using her bartender powers to see right through my act while walking away a bit to clean up the shaker she had used to make my drink. 

"Try long life" I say, rolling my eyes before taking a sip of my drink again, sighing in contentment. "That bad huh?" she laughs bitterly, knowing one way or another that what I'm dealing with is beyond fucked. "Let's just say the best part of my week so far has been this drink" I and steal a quick glance at her, embarrassed that my words are flowing so easily to a complete stranger. 

"But it's Saturday night" she say with her brows pinched together. "Exactly" I say and before I can even ask she decides to grab another shaker and makes me another drink which I accept with a somber smile. "I put some extra ice in this one so don't worry it's not gonna go straight to your head" she says, looking out for me as if she were someone I had known for my whole life. 

"I'm y/n by the way" I say, hoping to move from strangers to acquaintances at the very least. "Rae" she answers before tending to another patron. 

"So y/n" she starts as she makes her way back over to me "what do you do?" she asks, maintaining conversation but not trying to pry when it comes to what I'm clearly upset about. 

"I'm a writer" I answer and her interest is immediately peaked. "A writer? Really? What do you write about?" she asks, leaning up against the counter so she can hear me a bit better. 

"To be honest my stories are pretty fucked up romance novels" I say scratching the top of my head feeling a bit awkward at the confession. 

"Sounds like my type of book" she laughs. I let out a breath, thankful that I won't have to explain myself to her since this genre isn't everyone's cup of tea. "So what are some books that you've written? Maybe I've read one before" she says going back to cleaning up a few things, making sure to use her time wisely. 

"Well 'Trials of the Broken' is one of them. It's my best seller at the moment. I'm actually working on writing the sequel right now" I respond, embarrassed but proud of my achievements all the same. 

"I think I've heard of that one! My friends have been trying to get me to read it but I never got around to it" she says, surprised at her chances of meeting me. 

"If you ever get around to it then let me know what you think" I say, now kicking myself for putting on the pressure for her to read it. "I definitely will" she says and makes her way over to the other side of the bar to serve some more patrons that just made their way inside. 

Glancing over at them I notice one that is a few steps behind the crowd, making me question if he's come here alone but I go back to looking at my drink, trying my best not to stare. 

My eyes somehow manage to drag themselves over toward him as he places his order and waits for Rae to make it. 

He takes off his hood and I'm met with first, the sight of his sharp jaw, then his shaggy hair he ruffled as soon as the hood dropped and finally his lips, the bottom one pierced twice rested in a soft smile. I realize though that the only way I would be seeing his full on smile would be if he was looking back at me and I make somewhat panicked eye contact with him before quickly turning my head in the other direction. 

'Great job y/n, drooling over the first hot guy you see. He's probably going to think I'm some sort of creep now' my thoughts thought are interrupted with the sound of what I believe to be is a drink set down on the counter a few seats away from me. 

"Is it alright if I sit here?" a smooth baritone voice says, making butterflies fill my stomach. 

"Um yeah sure" I say, taking a sip of my drink before glancing at him, quickly looking away again before I start to stare again. 

"So how's your night going?" he asks, clearly in an effort to make small talk. 

"It's going. How about yours?" I question back and see that he's no longer looking at me, instead watching as he swirls his mystery drink around in his cup. "About the same" he chuckles, clearly amused with both of our lack of effort to divulge any details. 

We sit there for a second or two in silence before Rae walks over and gives me another drink. I watched her make it and I can tell she she went even easier on the alcohol this time and makes sure to question nonverbally if I'm alright to which I nod. 

"What are you drinking?" he asks, smiling at the visual of the bright pink drink with two cherries placed on top. "You're gonna laugh" I say, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear, feeling a little apprehensive saying words like this to a complete stranger (a hot one at that).

"It's-" "It's called a Slut Puppy" Rae interrupts from the other side of the bar, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was clearly listening. "Um yeah, that" I chuckle, taking a big sip of it to hopefully calm my nerves. 

"A slut puppy?" he asks, flashing an amused smile at me, sending my heart beat into overload. "Her name, not mine" I laugh awkwardly. Trying, but failing at sounding normal but from the looks of it he doesn't seem to mind. "Right" he says dragging out the first syllable before taking a sip of his drink. 

"Do you guys know each other?" he asks, curious as to who our not so secret eavesdropper is. "Kinda. We just met. Although it almost seems like I've known her my whole life" I say smiling at her, thankful for the fact that she was able to lift my spirits so easily. 

"It's nice when you meet people like that" he says and when I bring my attention back over to him I can tell that he's been looking at me for a while, making me shy all over again. 

"Oh, I'm Jungkook by the way" he says holding out his hand, and I turn my stool towards him and shake it, fixing what would've been an awkward angle if I had stayed in place. He after seeing what I had done decides to turn as well, angling his body towards me and I notice now that there's only one seat between us. A respectful distance, making me feel a bit more comfortable talking to him. 

"I'm y/n" I say and he gives me a soft smile, whispering my name under his breath, almost as if he were trying to keep it as a secret all for himself. "So y/n, what's your story?" he asks, withdrawing his hand at almost the same time I do and goes back to taking another sip of his drink, making sure to keep his sparkly eyes trained on me. 

'Sparkly? Y/n you are a married woman. You shouldn't even be talking to this guy'.

"My story? Well to be honest there's not much to tell. I grew up and went to school in the city and now I'm a writer. There's not much else to my life if I'm being honest" I say, doing my best to maintain conversation but also not give away too much. 

"That ring on your finger says otherwise" he says, nodding towards it and playing around with his straw. Not in an abrasive way but more as if to remind me of something else that I might've forgotten.

"Oh, um yeah" I say, showing him the ring up for a second to confirm his suspicions but pull my sweater down to cover it up a second later, hoping he won't ask anything else about that aspect but unfortunately luck is not on my side in that department tonight. 

"Is that why you're here? Needed to get away for a while?" he asks, curious but not insinuating anything that I would expect a guy of his age would be asking me. "I guess you could say that" I say taking a deep breath deciding that if he's asking I might as well get the male perspective while I can. 

"With being a writer and everything I'm pretty much cooped up in the house all day. Which for me is fine and it's been like that for a few years" I say, taking a second to try and figure out how to formulate my next words carefully, not wanting his to worry or judge the situation too much.

"I'm sensing there's a 'but' here" he chuckles and takes another sip of his drink and waves at Rae in an effort to get both of us both another drink without me noticing to avoid protest. "But" I start out, confirming his suspicions. "with my husband being used to me doing that all the time he tends to get a bit, how should I say this..." I trial off, still not sure how to phrase it. 

"Controlling?" he offers, a bit more blunt than his other responses. "Worried" I counter, although his word is more accurate than mine. He nods a bit, clearly not believing my words but doesn't press in hopes that I will continue. "He's worried that something might happen to me if I go out alone. That someone might recognize me because of my books and try to do something like kidnap me" I say, fully confident in my words.

I hear Jungkook snort beside me a second later, leaving me looking over at him with my brows scrunched up. "What's so funny?" I ask, confused and almost annoyed by his reaction. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry continue" he says doing his best to calm down. "No, what about that is so funny?" I press as I can clearly see that he's still trying to hold his laughter in. 

"I'm sorry y/n it's just, well isn't kidnapping a little bit of a stretch?" he says, clearing his throat and breathing through what he thought was a ridiculous excuse. "Woman and children get kidnapped everyday! Look up the statistics!" I retort, trying to convince him that there's truth to Taehyung's argument. 

"Yes, I know that it happens a lot, but you can't let that keep you from going outside and living life. It's a horrible thing and I don't understand why anyone would do such a thing but you can't use it as a way to cripple yourself from ever leaving your house" he says, this time being completely serious and trying his best to convince me that I shouldn't be living like this. 

"I'm out now aren't I?" I argue, and to that he nods his head but presses further. "How long has it been since you've been out like this though?" he asks and I just let my head droop a bit in response before taking a sip of my new drink. 

"Well I'm proud of you for coming out tonight and doing this for yourself. And look, you're completely safe. Plus seems like you've already made two new friends tonight" he laughs motioning to himself and Rae and when I look over at her all I can see is her bright smile, happy to see me getting more comfortable. 

"Who knows though, you might just be acting nice to me just so I'll let my guard down so you can kidnap me" I tease and at that he acts like he's offended, throwing his hand over his heart as if I had shot him. 

"You hurt me with your words. It's a shame though, I was just in the market for a new best friend" he says, wiping away a fake tear. "Or in the market for some fresh meat" I continue laughing at his act. "Twist the knife why don't you" he says, now resorting to pouting. 

"Aw, it's okay I didn't mean it" I say patting his shoulder in an effort to apologize. "You better not" he says looking at me, still pouting. "Come on, let's turn that frown upside down. Why don't I buy you a drink?" I ask as a way to make amends. 

"No that's alright, I've actually gotta get going" he says, pulling out his wallet and placing some cash on the counter to more than cover his drinks. "Let me get you some change" Rae steps in, quick to help since she is otherwise unoccupied. "No it's okay, use it to cover us both and then keep the change" he says as he straightens out his jacket a bit. 

"No you don't have to do that" I argue and go to take some cash out of my purse as well. "It's okay I got it. But if you want to make it up to me I'll always take your number as payment" he says with a cheeky smile. 

"Just as friends of course! I would never want to seduce a married woman" he says, jumping over himself, making me sure I know his intensions are pure. 

"Can we do email? I spend most of my time on my computer so it's easier for me" I say, making excuses as to not giving it to him. "As long as you promise not to mark my messages as spam" he jokes and hands me his phone so I can add it in. "I promise. It was really nice to meet you Jungkook" I say handing it back to him, our hands touching a few moments longer for it to be seen as something with the promise of being platonic. 

"Take care" he says giving me a soft smile and then waves at Rae, clearly seeing her not even bothering to hide that she's staring at us. 

"Bye" I say under my breath, not knowing how to feel about anything now that he's gone. 

prev / next Series Masterlist

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[echooefrost]

LANYON LORE TIME (YIPEEE)

I wanted to post some lanyon Lore for my Medieval Au because he's probably the most different to Canon-Lanyon. Jekyll/hyde stay pretty much the same, and they don't need much explanation, however lanyon does. so here it is.

EARLY LANYON

Growing up as a prince, meant that Lanyon was constricted to many duties and couldn't really live a normal life as a kid, this caused him to build up much resentment towards his father and in turn, made him a very reckless and rule-breaking, rebellious teenager. His name like Tgs (and novella) is also Hastie. Its very common for medieval royalty to pass down names [eg. Henry VIII] So robert would've been 'Hastie II' however little Babyon wanted to be nothing like his father and started going by 'Robert'. Lanyon never wanted to be King. Ever. He holds contemptment for his Royal duties and often dreams of running away from it all (but ever since a certain someone entered his life, he's found it awfully hard to leave...)

YOUNG-ADULT LANYON [PRE-HENRY]

Due to his rebellious nature, Young Lanyon would often end up sneaking out late at night go to the local pub, and let loose. He often wears a cloak so others don't recognise him. Lanyon likes to get very drunk and forget about all his responsibilities, (he's not one bit responsible) His Father disapproves and often reminds Lanyon that he is a 'disappointment to his family' (FUN!! SELF HATE?? ikr??) SO to address, Tgs Lanyon's playboi era, that doesn't really happen here, IN the Au as a part of finding his own freedom, he sleeps around alot, and has multiple one night stands but those involve both parties not expecting any strings attached. Lanyon still gets to be a slut but he also isn't a massive dick. He can also play the fiddle, he secretly enjoys this (but shh don't let his father know) and occasionally brings it to the pub. I headcanon that Lanyon has a really nice Singing voice, so in this Au Lanyon can sing, but he gets very embarrassed about it and never does it in public (unless incredibly drunk)

PRESENT LANYON

Present lanyon in the Au is in his early 20's (same with Jekyll) As part of His Duties as Prince, he must also be Knight and Fight in battles, this entail lots of training, Lanyon's been training since a young age, but ever sine Jekyll arrived, he always watches him practice so he can 'observe how to defend himself' and definitely NOT to see his cute crush/bff wear dashing armour, no.... Lanyon actually doesn't mind being a Knight that much but he doesn't Like Violence all that much and thinks there are better ways at solving disputes, however this does not mean he won't try to kill you if you threaten those dear to him (you can guess who)

In the AU, Robert is a bit more awkward around Henry, as they both are enamoured and always in Gay panic mode around each other, so there dynamic is a bit more 'cute' per-se compared to Tgs where Lanyon is Dom and Jekyll is Flustered mess. Lanyon gets to be a bit more a flustered mess in this Au too.

Yes, I know it's been a while, but no, the Au is not dead. I am going to do things with it I just haven't had a lot of time. Anyway thanks for reading, it means alot to me that people care about this, as always; if you have no idea what 'Au' I'm yapping about go to the Og post here (wow its kinda old... oooh old art) ...I think I'll do one of these with Frankenstein.

[diejager]

OKOK so if you don’t wanna do this it’s totally FINE!

I grew up without a father, so I always felt like I had to be the protector (I’m not gonna get into full detail,) and it gave me BAD trauma. (I’m a female) How would 141 react to this? Like basically them telling me I don’t have to be tough anymore, I don’t have to hide my emotions from people, I don’t have to be the strong one. Again if you don’t want to do this it’s okay! I’ve just been feeling really down with myself, I’ve been breaking into random crying episodes.

𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶♥︎♥︎

Ah, I see, your father really missed out on something good. I just want to apologise in advance if I got some things terribly wrong. If you need someone to talk to my DMs are open. Love you too🥰

Rest Cw: absent father, trauma, breaking down, tell me if I missed any.

They watched you stumble, stutter around them and grow awkward and self-conscious when they became protective of you, more so than a normal colleague relationship implied. It made your shoulders tense, smile looking more like a wince than the ones they were used to and your mind block out anything that would incur a resurgent memory. It pained to see you so uneasy towards their affection, the love and softness they easily gave you once you pushed through their hardened hearts and shatter the walls they built around themselves.

You were always so strong, going forth without hesitation to do what you had to, the strong-headed operator in their Task Force that always stepped ahead to protect them and yourself. Despite your freely-given affection, you were absent emotionally, dancing on the line of emptiness and loneliness, a lasting impact of an absent parent. You were sometimes odd, mind wandering to different places and coming up with what-ifs situations, blocking ou the world around you - them and the bustling crowd in the Mess hall - or at times, closing your door in their faces, turning your back to them when you seemed to need them the most, never letting them help you quell that heartache and pain.

“Lass,” it was Johnny’s voice, the jovial one of your quirky group, his saddened voice muffled by your closed door, a physical barrier between them and your broken world, “Let us in, would ya?”

If you ignored them long enough, they’d eventually leave you. Most did that, never bothering to put more effort into interacting with you when you tried to ignore them, they wouldn’t bother you much more later.

“Let us help you, ” Kyle, it was him that spoke up after Johnny, a soft thrum in his voice, gentle and reassuring as he gave a small knock on your door. He called out your name - you government one - through it, a little hum following it.

It pained you to shut them out, the cord connecting you to them pulled tightly, ready to snap if you did anything mad. Your face burned, blinking away the tears that clung to your lashes and shuddering, laboured gasps through your mouth. You couldn’t let them see you like this, it would shatter the image you tried so hard to create through blood, sweat and tears, all your hard work would go to waste if you opened the door.

“Please.”

You choked a breath, eyes widening as your mind spun. No one else had the deep and low tone, a rumble-like growl softened to seem harmless, almost vulnerable in sound. You’d never heard Ghost speak so gently —so weak and soft. How could you say no when Ghost had asked so nicely, his pretty please echoing in your mind like a song on repeat.

“You don’t have to let everyone in, sweetheart,” Price had always been a good bargainer, his words throwing the truth into people’s face despite their reluctance to listen. “Just one of us, yeah?”

You guessed having all of them in wouldn’t be too bad, knowing how much of a part you played in their little group of misfits and chaotic bunch. They’ve showed how much they cared for you prior to this, many times in and out of deployment, the drunken moments in a pub or in the solace of the Task Force’s own rec room. Despite your paranoid and fearful mind conjuring up many images and situations, you fond yourself unconsciously moving towards the door, your silent steps growing loud the closer you got to the metal knob. You flicked the lock off, letting it crack open. Light from the hall flooded in, peaking through your opened door, encompassing the towering figure of your Lieutenant, a sentry to your self-proclaimed cell, the protector of your broken mind.

“There you are, luv,” you could see the smile through his eyes, his warm browns showering you in silent affection, “Let me in?”

Letting him in was the hardest, yet easiest thing you’d ever done, welcoming him - another man’s fractured min - into your darkest moments, cheeks wet and lips bitten bloody, choking down your sobs. It couldn’t hurt to let them help, to let Price, Ghost, Kyle and Johnny in.

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[victoria-grimesss]

Hello! Do you think you could write 141 + konig with a tall fem!reader who has a crush on them but is so used to taller men not liking taller women that she starts “preemptively rejecting them” (self sabotaging herself lol) but is still clearly crushing hard

Or alternatively maybe even someone else shamed her for her height when she mentioned the crush and now she’s acting more distant because she’s second guessing herself now

masterlist

->Warning: slight violence, self doubt.

->A/N: I'm chipping away at the requests but I love writing them so have patience I will get them all out, and don't feel afraid about asking for as many as you want! (I got a little carried away with Soap's).

->Price:

Price has a lot on his plate so I feel like he wouldn't care too much about the height difference. If anything that's what started his attraction to you. He would hate to see you bring yourself down especially if you were on the team and worked closely with them. Hearing the way you would talk about yourself when you think no one could hear. Or when he heard the talk in the locker-room, other men snickering about your crush on him and how he could and would never entertain the idea of being romantic with someone who's so much taller, when he could have anyone. He would find himself Infront of your door late one night, the lines of ranks and right and wrong blurring as he brings his hand up to your door. He would hear no noise after a second and third knock so he would turn to leave until your soft voice alerted him. He would notice you've been more distant than usual, not coming to the usual team drinking events and speaking less to him. Under a veil of tears that would fall from your eyes and a hurried confession of your feelings and a spew of word vomit about how he could have anyone and more self doubt would come out of your mouth before it was silenced by his embrace. He would give you the warmest hug, a hand stroking your hair as he lead you into your room to reveal his own confession. And through that someone beautiful would bloom.

->Ghost:

Ghost is quiet by nature, your lingering stares that would stay on him for longer than normal, how you would find yourself nearby to him in almost every briefing room. He would find himself irritated at first but as he got to know you and work more with you he found himself enjoying your company and in turn developed a small crush which festered its way deep into his heart. You being tall was just an added bonus. He enjoyed you being tall in fact because when standing side by side he could glance over and admire your profile. Although his head was filled with thoughts of you, your head was filled with doubt and insecurity. You noticed him staring more and being closer and it scared you, so you did the only thing you knew, you distanced. You didn't come to the rec room for the group chat, nor the pub that weekend to celebrate he grew concerned. He found you on the rooftop one night, his footsteps quiet as he approached you. He would question you on your lack of appearance lately, he thought he had done something wrong, maybe he read you the wrong way. Maybe he let his feelings get ahead of himself. You would brush him off saying you were too tired. He called bullshit, saying if he had to be there around drunk Gaz and Soap so did you. Your mood would lighten the slightest before telling him why you had become so distant, fearing your height would scare him off, deter him from you. He laughed then, his eyes casted down on you as he crouched down next to you. “That’s what you’ve been fuckin worried about?” He sounded exasperated when he said it but a sniffle from your nose answered for you. A hand clasped on your shoulder before he spoke again, “If you think you being taller is going to drive me away you’re wrong, now let's go, Soap’s been asking for you and I need you down there to get through this bloody night.”

->Gaz:

I have a feeling his type is taller women, from the moment you met he was drawn to you. You had a welcoming air to you and he could never quite get enough. He would be conjoined at the hip with you if he could. He didn't believe you could be insecure about something that he found so attractive about you. Well until he heard some guys talking shit to you after training, he was walking towards you, bringing you a spare water bottle since he knew today was a longer day for you. They were crowded around you as you laced up your boots. Gaz knew you could handle yourself if you needed to but something within him sparked to life as he watched them talk down to you about something that was far out of your control. He pushed his way past one, shoulder roughly bumping into one of them and his dark gaze centered on the one currently speaking to you. Your face grew heated, now embarrassed to be seen under these circumstances. “If you have something to say to her you can say it to me.” You had stood up by now, a hand on Gaz’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him. “It’s not worth it, c’mon let's go.” You pleaded with him but he was still burning. “All we was sayin’ is how no one would want to be with her, especially you. Guys are intimidated by tall women.” The other man wore a smirk on his face as he finished his sentence but it didn't last long before Gaz’s fist met his nose with a sickening crunch. The man clutched his face and to say you were flattered Gaz came to your aid would be an understatement. You both left the room in a hurry, his fury burning slightly dimmer as you walked. “Won’t you get in trouble for that?” You asked him and he looked over to you and smiled. “Maybe, but it’ll be damn worth it, seeing that guy get what he deserved. Can’t be talking to you like that.” You sighed, “Maybe he’s right though, don’t guys feel intimidated by taller women, I mean my dating history shows.” Gaz rolls his eyes, “Well then you’ve been hanging around shit guys. Let me take you out and I’ll show you how you're supposed to be admired.”

->Soap:

I think Soap would love having a girlfriend that’s taller than him. But your self-doubt really came into play when your crush on Soap grew to an immeasurable size. He’s a ladies man, confident, funny, and good at his job. Being on the team you had heard about his conquests and the women he found attractive, none of them being as tall as you.. Although since you had joined the team and grown to be better friends, he met up with random women at night less and less. You would ask him why and he would blame it on being too busy or not finding it as fun anymore. But the real answer was that he found himself head over heels for you. He had tried to distract himself with other women for a bit but he always thought of you. Even if you're taller in general or taller than him he would still be just as attracted, He would notice you would be less inclined to be around him, and he wouldn't know why, he craved your attention and admired you. His feelings for you had been growing and growing until he felt like he was going to explode. He found you in your room, still in your day clothes. You had seemed surprised to see him, not expecting him at this time. “Come to tell me about another girl?” You faked a smile as you let him in. “No. I wanted to talk to you, I was looking for you.” You sat down roughly on the sofa and patted the spot next to you. “Well here I am. Go on.” He sat next to you, his heart racing being so close to you again. “Where have you been bonnie? Been missin’ ya lately.” You rub the bridge of your nose, a headache blooming. “Just tired Johnny. That's all.” He scoffs. “That's a load of shit, ya know if something is wrong I’m here for ya.” You stand up, and turn to him, finally letting all your feelings out. “That's the problem Johnny! You’re always around and it drives me mental because I hear all about the beautiful women you sleep with and how they don’t look like me and how I’m too tall for you and you would never be with me and it kills me because I’m in love with you!” Your hand clasps around your mouth and both yours and Soap’s eyes are wide. Until a devilish smile breaks his lips and he stands as well. “You mean it bonnie? Ya love me?” You don't say anything but he steps closer, eyes glimmering. “Please say ya do, because fuck, do I love you too. I love everything about you, I kept trying to find what I wanted in other people when you were here right in front of me the whole time.”  You break into a smile then too and you confess that yes you do love him. He holds you the whole night and definitely takes a million candid pictures of you to hold onto.

->Konig:

He’s tall, incredibly tall and broad so anyone is going to be short to him. He would find his gaze drawn to you especially if you’re taller than a majority of the other guys on the team. His gaze would make you flush, beating yourself up for getting caught up in feelings for such a high ranked officer. Konig is confident when it comes to his job, yes but he’s on the quieter side when it comes to casual conversation. Unless he likes you, which he does, very much. He uses his rank as an excuse to be around you more, who's going to tell him no? He would oversee your training. And since you were taller it was easier to train you on his level. During these training moments you would talk, most of the time it was just the two of you in the area, others wanting to avoid having to train with him. But you never minded. You would be honest with him about your insecurity about your height and he would be able to relate to you. He was insecure about it until he was able to use it to his advantage in the field. He advised you to do the same, he told you to be confident even when you don’t feel like it. You also told him about the guys that turn you down or flat out criticize you for your height. His accent would grow thicker as he got more heated, and he did as he talked about how stupid those men would be for turning you down, how they should treat you with respect and admiration for all your hard work on the team. How he would never treat you like that. And he plans to show you. He most definitely talks to those guys that made you upset later, they're on bathroom cleaning duties for the next six months.

[rorywritesjunk]

No longer locked upon the land but free on the rolling waves

You and Buggy come face to face with himself from the past, and while you're fully accepting that this is your husband as a child, Buggy doesn't want to accept it.

Rating: PG-13ish, but just due to some swearing.

Warning: Upset kid, upset husband. Reader is way too nice, doesn't necessarily take husband's feelings into account as well.

A/N: A combined request. I did a few versions of this story before feeling like it hit the marks I was wanting to hit. Also, I'm just trying to vibe off what I've seen of Kid Buggy. I'm no expert. I'd protect that kid with my life. He's so adorable. I also like the trope of "Meeting your self from another time" and "gets turned back into kid-self". This is the former, and I know shit about time travel but I just kind of made something up. Also, kelpies. Are they in One Piece? I honestly don't know but I love kelpies and needed an excuse to mention them.

Title comes from "Sailing Song" by S.J. Tucker.

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6/Epilogue

Chapter One

You would have thought you drank the pub dry the night before and were still drunk with what you were seeing in front of you. Except you very much didn’t drink. You stayed back on the ship, wanting a quiet night while the rest of the crew and captain went to drink the pub dry. You were perfectly sober, no hangover in sight, but you really weren’t sure what you were staring at.

Blue hair, red nose, and a scowl you knew all too well was in front of you, clutching something in his little hands while looking you up and down. “What?!”

“I… don’t know.” Which was true, you didn’t know. The kid in front of you looked every bit like the captain who was currently sleeping back on the ship, having managed to find his way home without falling off the docks and into the water to drown(this time). He never mentioned having a kid, ever, and considering how long you knew the captain and your relationship with him, and guessing the kid’s age, you would have been having a very serious talk about infidelity and why keeping your love child a secret? Seriously? wasn’t good for relationships. 

“Why are you staring at me?!” The kid snapped. “Don’t stare at me!”

“Sorry!” You smiled and knelt down in front of him. “You just look so much like someone I know, I was confused. I promise I wasn’t staring.”

The kid was on guard, tense, and looked ready to bolt, but you were curious. He just looked so much like Buggy that he had to be an offspring or some kind of relative, but the scary thing to you was how much he really looked like Buggy; he had kept some photos of his childhood onboard the Oro Jackson, and you knew what he looked like as a kid. He would show them to you on nights when he was drunk and reminiscing about the good ol’ days, singing shanties and drinking heavily. Last night was one of those nights before he passed out asleep in bed. 

“What’s your name?” You finally asked. The kid didn’t seem sure about telling you, but he must have felt brave because he straightened up and smirked at you.

“I’m Buggy!” He told you, puffing his chest out proudly. “I’m an apprentice under Captain Roger, y’know, and I’m one of the best already!”

Oh.

Oh shit.

Yea, no, something weird was going on. Why was there a kid who looked like Buggy, had the same name, and was talking about Captain Roger like he was still alive? Was this an elaborate make believe game the kid was playing, or were you staring into the eyes of your husband’s childhood self?

Weirdly enough, the latter made more sense to you. You heard of this happening, stories from sailors and pirates alike, but the stories were overheard at the bar after too much alcohol was consumed. Stories of children appearing for several days on a ship, like ghosts from a distant past, only to disappear again without a trace, but sometimes it happened the other way around, with the storytellers insisting that they met themselves as a child in the past, got to relive some memories, good and bad, before coming home again. 

“Yea?” You grinned. “That’s impressive, so where’s your crew? Your ship?”

The smirk vanished and he deflated a bit, looking around with the smallest bit of worry. “I don’t know. I was in front of them and there was some kind of flash of light, and… I don’t know where I am.”

“Oh, well, want me to help you look for them?” You asked, knowing all too well that his crew was nowhere around, he was not where he thought he was, but you didn’t want him getting into any trouble (which you knew was difficult because as an adult he managed to get himself into enough trouble). “If we don’t find them, you can stay with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

“I-I don’t need to be kept safe!” He snapped. “I’m tough, okay? I can take care of myself!” 

You made sure not to laugh, but it was hard not too. He was so cute as a kid that saying those things with such passion and intensity just made him even more adorable. Instead, you nodded, agreeing with him as you held your hand out to him to take.

“Well, how about something to eat? I’m just finishing up a supply run for my ship.” You said. “I’m happy to make you something before we find your crew.”

He looked at your hand, looked at you, then back at your hand before hesitantly taking it. Whatever he held in his hand he put in his pocket, making you wonder what he stole before coming here. You decided not to test the waters yet, he was feisty, proud, and if you treated him like a kid then he wouldn’t be very happy. You needed to treat him like the apprentice that he is, proud, determined, and passionate. Once his hand was in yours, you gave it a gentle squeeze and smiled at him as you started walking back to the docks.

“I have fresh apples and peanut butter, if you’d like that as a snack.” You said, eyeing him with a grin as his face lit up. That was the same snack you’d promise the captain whenever you wanted something from him. It wasn’t fancy by any means, just a simple snack, but you kept the peanut butter hidden from him so he never knew where to find it. The way the kid’s face lit up told you all you needed to know that this really was Buggy as a kid.

Oh, it was about to get fun on the ship.

~

“-and then I stole it!” Buggy exclaimed with a laugh, holding up the pendant for you to see. He had just finished telling you of his latest act of piracy, stealing some necklace from a vendor on the streets. You had fed him, given him something to drink, and you couldn’t help but walk over to him once he finished talking to wipe some of the food off his face with a dish towel. He was caught off guard and made a face at you when you did that.

“Pirates with food on their face scare no one.” You chuckled as you slung the towel over your shoulder before clearing the dishes in front of him. “And then what happened, Buggy?”

He fell silent, brow furrowed as he thought of your question. What did happen? He took off running, met up with the crew, and then a flash of light and he bumped into you-

“Buggy?” You tapped on the table in front of him, bringing him out of his thoughts. “You okay, sweetie?”

“Yea, yea.” He mumbled as he looked down at the pendant in his hand. “Next thing that happened was I ran into you.”

He quite literally did. You had just stepped out of a shop when he walked right into you, and you had been in shock of seeing him that you weren't bothered that a kid was yelling at you about being in the way.

“Oh!” You nodded and went to refill his glass. “Well, you can stay with me until we find your crew, okay?”

“Are you a pirate?” He asked. “I'm on a pirate ship, but you don't seem like a pirate.”

You laughed softly at that, shaking your head. “I'm not, no. I don't do piracy, just help with the upkeep of the ship. My husband, however, is a pirate.”

“What?!” 

“Yea, he-”

“It's too loud in here.” Someone grumbled from the doorway. You both turned to look; the kid’s eyes widened and you grinned. And there he was, groggy, a little hungover, and obviously needing food and coffee if he was going to start the day. You went over to him and led him to the table, helping him sit down before you started on the coffee. “Time?”

“Lunch time.” You chuckled. “That's what time it is, honey.”

He glared at you, oblivious to the guest that was staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. Buggy was a little hungover, having had his fair share of alcohol the night before. Normally you had the coffee ready for him before he woke up, so he was confused and unhappy that it wasn't readily available for him at that moment.

“It's too early.” He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What's for lunch?”

“Wake up first.” You brought him a cup and kissed the top of his head. “But I need you to look across the table before you drink that coffee, honey.”

Buggy looked up at you, eyes squinting in confusion. You took hold of his head and turned it in the direction you wanted him to look, and a few seconds later he pushed back from the table while you still held his head. Swearing, you popped it back onto his neck.

“W-What is going on?” He shrieked upon seeing the kid. Thankfully Kid Buggy remained seated, but you could see the confused look on his face. The two were staring at each other, mirror images except for the age difference. Before you could explain, your husband got up, marched over to the kid, and picked him up by the back of the shirt, carrying him out of the kitchen.

“Buggy-” You went after him, not sure what was happening.

“Hey! Put me down!” The kid shrieked, fists swinging and legs kicking. 

Buggy didn't respond and before you could stop him, he tossed the kid over the side of the ship and into the water. You couldn't believe he did that. You rushed to the side to look over, relieved you saw the kid treading water. So this was definitely a young Buggy, pre-Devil Fruit, otherwise you would have thrown your husband overboard after the kid. You threw a rope down to him while your husband went back to the kitchen, rambling on about curses and bad omens. 

You wanted to know what the hell that was about.

~

“I’m fine!” The kid insisted as you wrapped his hair up in a towel. His clothes were soaked and you did not have anything that would fit him, so he was currently wearing an old shirt of Buggy’s until his clothes dried. They were draped over a chair in the bedroom, the pendant he stole earlier sitting on your shared dressing table. 

“I don’t need you getting sick, sweetie.” You sighed as you used another towel to make sure his face was clean. You were mindful of the nose, touching the towel to his face except there. “I’m sorry he did that.”

“Why did he do that?” He grumbled as he crossed his arms, glaring up at you.

“Because pirates are superstitious fools.” You told him. “And… seeing you scared him I guess. I don’t know, I’m going to talk to him.” Carefully, you unwrapped his hair, making note that he needed to have it brushed to keep from tangling too much. You got up and set the towels aside before grabbing your hairbrush. “Buggy, I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to get scared, okay?”

“I don’t get scared!” He insisted. “Not like that guy! I’m braver than him!”

“Okay, here’s the thing about my husband-”

“Don’t tell him anything!” Your husband suddenly appeared in the doorway, glaring at the two of you. “Where did you find him? Who is he?!”

You weren’t bothered by his mood, but you wanted to make sure the kid felt safe. Without a word you moved between the two, keeping Kid Buggy behind you as you crossed your arms.

“We ran into each other, Buggy.” You told him firmly. “He got separated from his crew.”

“Crew?!” Buggy shook his head. “No, get him off this ship. He could be… a kelpie or something. Get him out of here!”

“He’s not a kelpie.” You sighed. 

“You don’t know that!”

Rolling your eyes you looked down at the kid. He had grabbed hold of your pant leg, gripping it tightly as he stared at the man in the doorway. This was a lot for both of them but you needed the captain to calm down. You knelt down and touched the kid’s bare toes. He took a step back and gave you a weird look.

“Human toes, no hooves.” You pointed out. “He also mentioned the Oro Jackson and being an apprentice…” You looked back at your husband. He paled and shook his head. This was too much. This was not him, this had to be some form of trickery, or a shapeshifter. “Besides, I’ve spent enough time with my husband to know when I’m with him as a child.”

Kid Buggy’s eyes widened, looking between you and Adult Buggy. Child? Was… this supposed to be him in the future? As an adult? His jaw dropped, he couldn’t believe it. You smiled at the expression on his face, pleased the kid was in awe of this.

“I turn out to be a drunk loser?!” The kid shrieked. “Why?!”

Okay, that was not what you expected. You slapped your hand to your face while your husband looked ready to throw the kid overboard once again. Kid Buggy just shook his head, not believing this. Was this an alternate reality of some kind? He wouldn’t be like this. Was this guy even a pirate? He didn’t seem like it from the little bit the kid had seen already. He was not impressed in the slightest.

“I want him gone.” Buggy snapped. “No kelpie or bad omen crap is allowed on this ship!”

He stormed off after that. 

[esamastation]

Part fifty-four of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three

-

Now, Reno could be an impartial observer about this. He probably should be. Just do his job, sign his report, hand over his duty to someone else, and wash his hands of the whole mess.

But on the other hand, "So. Flying, huh?"

Sephiroth has the gall to look sheepish about it. He is actually fucking blushing. "Well. That's not exactly it, but, yes? Is that a problem?"

Reno eyes him flatly for a moment. Then he shrugs. "Hell if I know. You know, for a while there I thought you were actually trying to keep your magical metamorphosis thing down low, but you just don't give a fuck, do you?" It's kinda impressive, really.

"Um," Sephiroth answers, and takes a dainty little sip of his tea.

Reno snorts. "You're something else," he says and falls to sit across from him on the other side of the tiny little tea table. Then he looks around.

They're alone in the main hall of the safehouse. Hewley and Rude are out picking up Tseng from the town, and it's just him and Mr. No Gravity, and Reno doesn't mind admitting he might actually miss the place. It's still hilarious that Sephiroth turns into a prissy princess when it comes to decor, but Reno can't say he doesn't know what he's on about.

He actually made the place really nice, for an abandoned house. As safehouses went, it was up there.

Sephiroth watches him curiously. "Looking forward to returning to Midgar?"

"God, yes," Reno says emphatically. "I'm going to find the nearest Pilferer's, and I'm going to forget all about your… everything."

"Pilferer's?"

"It's a chain of pubs," Reno explains, waving a hand. "Shit beer for cheap, good for one thing only."

"Ah," Sephiroth huffs in amused offence. "I'm not that bad, surely."

Well, no. Reno once had to act as Scarlet's bodyguard - that is still the worst assignment he's ever had. This doesn't come even close. But… "I don't know, man. You're kinda weird."

Sephiroth blinks at that, and Reno grimaces looking away. Sephiroth it's also kinda terrifying, even like this. Actually maybe especially like this. After his training sessions and meditations Sephiroth is all relaxed and cosy - it's probably the safest he is to be around, but it's weird.

It really brings home the fact that the guy is different from what he was. Even without Hewley there to react to it, you can tell. Sephiroth is someone else these days, and his shitty lying aside, none of them actually know him. And the guy isn't that keen on explaining.

… You know what, fuck it. Reno's out of here by the end of the evening anyway. "Are you ever going to explain what the hell is going on to anyone, or are we going to have to keep on guessing?" he asks.

Sephiroth hums, noncommittal.

"Because dude, it's going to have consequences in the long run. If not for you, then for the other SOLDIERs," Reno points out. "You know that, right?"

That makes the guy react with more than demure deflection, and Sephiroth lowers his cup. "Consequences like what?"

"Oh, you know, life-altering experiments in all the worst ways?" Reno asks and points a finger at him. "You realise what this all looks like from the outside, right? You get a deadly dose of Mako and boom, new abilities? You can be sure they're going to try to recreate those results."

Sephiroth frowns at that, looking down. He taps his finger against the tea cup for a moment and then shrugs. "I don't see what there is that I can do about that," he says and looks up at Reno pointedly. "First sign of trouble, and you ferried me out of Midgar, I assumed it was to get me out of the way."

"Well, yeah. For a reason," Reno shrugs and leans back a little. Fuck, the Mako shine is spooky when it's aimed at you like this, in dim light where you can tell the guy's eyes are actually emitting their own glow. "Seemed kinda necessary to keep you from going berserk again and killing someone important. Like Professor Hojo."

Sephiroth makes a funny sort of face at that, and sips his tea. From scary to embarrassed. Yay.

Never mind, Reno isn't going to miss this place at all. "Fuck it, whatever. I don't care," he decides. "Soon you'll be Tseng's problem, and I won't waste another moment thinking about you."

"I am hurt and heartbroken," Sephiroth says blandly and snorts at the face Reno makes at him. "You have been a most pleasant babysitter, Reno of the Turks. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to get to know you."

"Oh, put a cork in it."

"No, I'm serious," Sephiroth says. "I've always found the Turks to be intriguing. Your… work ethics are almost admirable."

Reno eyes him dubiously. "You're fucking with me."

Sephiroth grins, clasping the little tea cup loosely between both hands. "Not at all. There's a core of morals that runs through your agency that I find fascinating. The scary, underhanded enforcers and spies of Shinra - hiding just enough of a shred of decency to make you… rational. Practical and yet, strangely, sympathetic."

Reno gapes at him. What the fuck - where the hell did that come from?

Sephiroth chuckles at his expression. "I think I would quite like you, if the circumstances were different," he muses and pours himself another cup of tea.

Reno feels like objecting. He can feel his cheeks heating up. "You are absolutely fucking with me."

Sephiroth grins a little wider at that, and - damn, the guy's smiles are kinda devastating. Reno had been carefully not noticing, because, hello, job, but damn. Who the hell made this guy so hot? His lips are insanely pretty.

Reno is suddenly very aware that it's been a while since he last got laid and that he really desperately needs a drink. 

"Tseng is originally from Wutai, isn't he?"

"Wha?"

Sephiroth arches his brows and tilts his head. A stand of silver hair slides across his shoulder. "Tseng. Is he from Wutai?"

Reno thought he'd gotten used to the fancy dress shirts - and hell, Sephiroth had his chest pretty much completely bared before! Why the hell are just two buttons undone so sexy all of a sudden?!

"Oh, um. Yeah?" Reno agrees and clears his throat, shaking his head. Don't look at his collarbones. "He knows the lay of the land better anyway, so, you know, if your little soiree with the Wutai Captain has a follow up, he'll probably know what's up." … Uh.

Sephiroth gives him that slow blink again, and Reno doesn't blame him - it sounds like complete nonsense to him too.

Damn it, get it together, man, the guy isn't that fuckable!

… Except that he really, really is, and Reno wishes he could go back to professionally not noticing it.

"That's good, I suppose," Sephiroth says slowly. "I'll be looking forward to hearing his insights."

"Yeah, yeah, sure…" Tseng also knows more about Ancients than anyone not dead or in the Science Department, so whatever is going on with Sephiroth, Tseng would be able to figure it out. Probably.

Reno looks at Sephiroth's stupidly pretty face and then clears his throat. "Well, it's been - different. Let's never do it again. Try not to go nuts and kill any important scientists in the future, okay?"

Sephiroth looks away, his eyes going a little distant. "... No promises," he murmurs. Except coming from him, it's more of a purr, isn't it?

Fuuuck, Reno really needs to get out of here.

It's probably a good thing Tseng seems to kinda dislike Sephiroth for some reason. He wouldn't have this problem.

-

Get **** beamed.