#it took me years to reach that point and i still had the rose tinted glasses on at his age

[arobinwithoutbatman]

.

[jungilhoon]

from 2015 to 2023: a retrospective!

i’m mostly writing this for myself, but if you happen to take a look and even get something out of it, that’s cool too.

i started this blog in march 2015; it’s now december 2023. back then, i was still a student, reaching the end of my teen years and preparing to progress towards the next stage of my life. i’m now twenty-eight (birth year buddies with sungjae, let’s go).

to be honest, my main goal in life during that time – aside from surviving university and then finding a job – was basically to spread recognition of btob as much as i could lmao. it was as if my well-being depended on their happiness and success. i wanted to watch them succeed so bad, and i feel like their rise equated to some of the most exciting years of my life. they gave me something i thought i was missing, and i needed them. at the same time, i think i was experiencing a lot of difficulties during the years 2015-2017. btob became my escape and comfort that helped me get through that period. looking back, i could have been relying on them a bit too much, but they certainly brightened my world. for that, i’ll always be grateful.

one of my fondest memories will forever be seeing them live for the first time at their 2017 concert. being in the presence of the seven people i had been supporting so hard was profoundly touching. hearing fellow melodies singing their hearts out to ‘it’s okay’ alongside myself brought tears to my eyes.

anyway, as time passed and i started to spend less time online due to changing commitments offline, i began to notice changes in myself. i stopped posting here in 2019 for no significant reason other than that i had gotten busy, and i was finding myself genuinely enjoying life by then. i was discovering happiness in more ways than i had before, but btob stayed a part of me. they were my reliable friends, my found family – the ones i could come back to at any time. my home.

in late 2020 and 2021, i distanced myself for a while. i don’t think i ever fully processed the news back then. i might have even told myself that not paying attention and blocking it out would be for the best. i basically took a break, only checking in here and there. (4u ate up on kingdom.) i’ve naturally drifted away from people i knew back then, but i’ve also stayed close to a few. eventually, i found myself accepting the way things had become, albeit slowly. i still miss and care about ilhoon. i understand if he will never be a ‘public figure’ again. i think i can simultaneously acknowledge and hold both of these perspectives. every now and then, such as when i’d finished watching the btob time movie last week, i do feel sad about it. it’s hard to just get over it. yeah, i’m an adult, but so what.

my mindset has changed as i’ve gotten older. in the past, i was hostile and quick to react in the face of negativity. i was chaotic; i always wanted to prove a point. i guess i’ve calmed down a lot since then. i’m pretty mellow these days. on the whole, i’m not fond of spending too much time engaging with strangers or acquaintances online. truthfully, it did make me anxious then too. i kind of prefer just tossing things into the void, like this post, and quietly enjoying what i like. that’s why being active online the way i used to be doesn’t seem to work for me anymore. still, maybe with rose-tinted glasses, i miss those days i spent just waiting on the next btob update and having fun here. i scrolled through my archive for a while last night, riding on a rollercoaster of emotions.

what i actually mean by my mindset having changed though, is that i seem to view things in life more positively these days. i’ve somehow stopped being so pessimistic all the time. i found it difficult to look on the bright side when i was younger. i was colder, filled with dread, and eternally expecting the worst. as a person, i think i’ve become warmer, more appreciative. precious things can disappear just like that. i try to be thankful, in case it’s true that nothing gold can stay.

i’m undecided on if i’ll randomly appear with the odd post when i feel like it. there’s no harm in it, so perhaps! at present, what i want to say is that i still wholeheartedly love and support btob. always will. i have their season’s greetings pre-ordered. now that they’re out of cube, i’m so excited for what they might have in store next. i don’t know what it’ll be, but that’s okay. whatever it is, and even if it’s not what i’m expecting, i trust them. i’ll be proud of them. really! 비투비 예전에도 지금도 앞으로도 사랑해요! 🩵

(p.s. i impulsively bought hour moment photocards at 2am last night, so maybe i actually still need to relax.)

[bewitching-book-tours]

The Talking Cure -A Novel of Magic and Psychiatry by Barbara Lien-Cooper and Park Cooper #PNR

The Talking Cure -A Novel of Magic and Psychiatry

The Cutter/Mann Series

Book One

Barbara Lien-Cooper and Park Cooper

Genre: slow build paranormal romance 

Publisher: Wicker Man Studios

Date of Publication: Aug 2022

Number of pages: 434

Word Count: 85,000

Book Description: 

--Zach Cutter claims he's not really an antiques dealer as such, but that he's really a supernatural investigator.

--Zach claims he's got repressed memories, missing at least a year of his life, probably more.

--Zach claims he can do magic. Not stage magician magic-- real magic.

--Zach claims he's got feelings for his new psychiatrist, Dr. Cynthia Mann.

--Zach claims a lot of problematic things.

But they're all true.

After a disturbing case in New York made Dr. Cynthia Mann wonder if the supernatural might actually be real, she's started her life and her practice all over again in Cleveland, where she meets a new patient, stranger than any she’s ever met before—and far more charming than anyone she’s ever met, too. 

During the progress Zach makes as Cynthia’s patient, he tells her stories about his past, and their relationship slowly edges from a doctor-patient one to a friendship—and Zach clearly wouldn’t mind if it became more. 

Together, Cynthia and Zach will eventually have to find a way for him to get out of the trouble he stumbled into long ago...

Book Trailer https://youtu.be/Ya9_0eCMrzw

Excerpt

“You’re really going to make me do magic, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I can’t believe your story otherwise.”

He reached out to some fresh roses that were in a vase on my desk. “Watch,” he said.

No magical energy came from his fingers, and nothing felt or looked any different. He was just... touching them. But he looked at me as if he’d done something. “...You didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Touch the petals.”

As I reluctantly reached out to the petals he’d been touching, his fingers, drawing away, touched my hand. “C’mon, they won’t bite you,” he said. Then he reached out again, and guided my hand across the petals of the flower.

The roses had been real that morning—I’d put them in fresh water.

But now they were fake flowers, made of silk. “You have nice hands,” he said.

I took back my hand. “What did you do to my flowers?”

“Magic,” he said.

“Slight-of-hand magic, you mean. You could have just distracted me...”

Zach sighed and raised his hand, showing me his palm, the fingers splayed out like he was about to start pointing to it and lecturing me about palm-reading. Then he lowered it down until his hand was laid out flat on my desk. I watched his hand lower, then I watched it sit there, waiting for something to happen. His hand didn’t move... nothing seemed to move... though there was some slight change I couldn’t put my finger on.

After a few seconds, I looked more closely around his hand at the desktop. The top of the desk was transparent.

My desk had been made of wood. Now, however, the entire desk was made of glass.

It was still exactly the same shape. It was at least the same weight, since it didn’t budge when I pushed at it.

I pulled out a drawer. A glass drawer slid out, on metal wheels turning on metal rails screwed into the glass by metal screws. I hadn’t really needed to pull out the drawer—I could already see, somewhat, what was inside: regular-old, boring white envelopes, some staples, paperclips, pens.

All faintly visible through see-through glass, glass with a woody brown tint to it... and a sort of vague wood grain set into it somehow...

“Don’t worry, it’ll only last a few hours, then it’ll change back to wood,” Cutter assured me.

What. In the world.

I stared at him for almost half a minute. He looked at me patiently. It was as if we were trying to “read” each other, trying to figure out... I don’t know. Each other, I guess.

I looked away first. “I’m sorry, Zach, but you’re not a client of mine yet... I can’t... until I get to know you... I don’t just give out sleeping pills... I’m sure other doctors might, but...”

“I don’t want another doctor. I want you, Cynthia.”

Great. The first handsome, smart guy I’d met in a while, and not only did he have to be a potential client, he was some sort of... magician...? “I’m not sure that would be...” I said, “I mean...” On top of everything else, I found that I was blushing.

“What if I told you that...well, uh... I actually... it’s not just sleeping pills... seriously, I do have some real problems...”

“What sort of problems...?”

“...Repressed memories.”

“Oh? When did that start?”

He smiled weakly. “After Celeste died. The time right before that is very fuzzy. And the time right after that is pretty much lost to me. I lost months... probably a lot more time than that.” He glanced at a clock on the wall and grinned a winning smile. “But I imagine my time’s up for today...”

“Yes, I suppose it is...”

“Unless you’d like to go out to dinner with me...?”

“Mr. Cutter, if you’re to be my client, I can’t... we can’t meet socially...”

“I’ve always liked women who have a bit of an authoritarian side to them...”

I took out my appointment book. “Let’s get you an appointment for next time. I don’t really appreciate walk-ins, and...”

“—Argh, I hate sticking to appointments. Being a magician isn’t exactly a 9-to-5 job...”

About the Authors:

Barb Lien-Cooper is originally from Minnesota. She was a guitarist/singer-songwriter, and got an album put out on the Imp label. However, she also had health issues: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and fibromyalgia and extreme environmental sensitivities and allergies. (She also has Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder due to issues involving her family of origin.)

For a while, brain fog from the CFS and the fibro made it harder for her to read long and involved works of fiction... So (since she'd always loved them in her childhood) she got into reading comics and graphic novels, particularly the comparatively avant-garde work coming out at that time from DC Comics.

Park Cooper was born and raised in central Texas he read a lot of books and comic books—and then one day, someone in the letter columns of the comic Sandman announced that they were doing a fanzine for readers of that comic. Barb and Park both wrote in.

Park liked the writing Barb submitted to the fanzine, and he wrote to her, and they began writing to each other. Then they started talking on the phone... they fell in love... they started visiting one another...

Then they got married! (To each other!)

They wrote about comics and popular culture for some websites (some of them award-winning), and wrote a lot of reviews and articles and things.

A little after that, Barb started writing her comic Gun Street Girl, and a little after that, they started adapting and editing many, many manga for major American publishers importing manga (and sometimes their South Korean and Chinese counterparts) from the far side of the Pacific. Near the end of this, Barb and Park wrote the manga pitch The Hidden for TokyoPop, perfectly timed to appear the week that that company fell apart.

Then Barb and Park wrote the sci-fi vampire graphic novel Half Dead for Marvel Comics and Dabel Brothers Productions.

 Somewhere around this time, Park successfully completed his Ph.D. in literature, and then Barb and Park wrote a vampire prose novel, and Park started writing his cyberpunk comic Swipe for Angry Viking Press, and there were also other various short stories and novels and non-manga-related editing jobs, too many to bother counting here...

These days, Barb and Park live happily together in Austin, Texas.

Web: https://parkgsg.wixsite.com/wickermanstudios 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/parkcooper 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100057705847859

[bewitchingbooktours]

The Talking Cure -A Novel of Magic and Psychiatry by Barbara Lien-Cooper and Park Cooper #PNR

The Talking Cure -A Novel of Magic and Psychiatry

The Cutter/Mann Series

Book One

Barbara Lien-Cooper and Park Cooper

Genre: slow build paranormal romance 

Publisher: Wicker Man Studios

Date of Publication: Aug 2022

Number of pages: 434

Word Count: 85,000

Book Description: 

--Zach Cutter claims he's not really an antiques dealer as such, but that he's really a supernatural investigator.

--Zach claims he's got repressed memories, missing at least a year of his life, probably more.

--Zach claims he can do magic. Not stage magician magic-- real magic.

--Zach claims he's got feelings for his new psychiatrist, Dr. Cynthia Mann.

--Zach claims a lot of problematic things.

But they're all true.

After a disturbing case in New York made Dr. Cynthia Mann wonder if the supernatural might actually be real, she's started her life and her practice all over again in Cleveland, where she meets a new patient, stranger than any she’s ever met before—and far more charming than anyone she’s ever met, too. 

During the progress Zach makes as Cynthia’s patient, he tells her stories about his past, and their relationship slowly edges from a doctor-patient one to a friendship—and Zach clearly wouldn’t mind if it became more. 

Together, Cynthia and Zach will eventually have to find a way for him to get out of the trouble he stumbled into long ago...

Book Trailer https://youtu.be/Ya9_0eCMrzw

Excerpt

“You’re really going to make me do magic, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I can’t believe your story otherwise.”

He reached out to some fresh roses that were in a vase on my desk. “Watch,” he said.

No magical energy came from his fingers, and nothing felt or looked any different. He was just... touching them. But he looked at me as if he’d done something. “...You didn’t do anything,” I said.

“Touch the petals.”

As I reluctantly reached out to the petals he’d been touching, his fingers, drawing away, touched my hand. “C’mon, they won’t bite you,” he said. Then he reached out again, and guided my hand across the petals of the flower.

The roses had been real that morning—I’d put them in fresh water.

But now they were fake flowers, made of silk. “You have nice hands,” he said.

I took back my hand. “What did you do to my flowers?”

“Magic,” he said.

“Slight-of-hand magic, you mean. You could have just distracted me...”

Zach sighed and raised his hand, showing me his palm, the fingers splayed out like he was about to start pointing to it and lecturing me about palm-reading. Then he lowered it down until his hand was laid out flat on my desk. I watched his hand lower, then I watched it sit there, waiting for something to happen. His hand didn’t move... nothing seemed to move... though there was some slight change I couldn’t put my finger on.

After a few seconds, I looked more closely around his hand at the desktop. The top of the desk was transparent.

My desk had been made of wood. Now, however, the entire desk was made of glass.

It was still exactly the same shape. It was at least the same weight, since it didn’t budge when I pushed at it.

I pulled out a drawer. A glass drawer slid out, on metal wheels turning on metal rails screwed into the glass by metal screws. I hadn’t really needed to pull out the drawer—I could already see, somewhat, what was inside: regular-old, boring white envelopes, some staples, paperclips, pens.

All faintly visible through see-through glass, glass with a woody brown tint to it... and a sort of vague wood grain set into it somehow...

“Don’t worry, it’ll only last a few hours, then it’ll change back to wood,” Cutter assured me.

What. In the world.

I stared at him for almost half a minute. He looked at me patiently. It was as if we were trying to “read” each other, trying to figure out... I don’t know. Each other, I guess.

I looked away first. “I’m sorry, Zach, but you’re not a client of mine yet... I can’t... until I get to know you... I don’t just give out sleeping pills... I’m sure other doctors might, but...”

“I don’t want another doctor. I want you, Cynthia.”

Great. The first handsome, smart guy I’d met in a while, and not only did he have to be a potential client, he was some sort of... magician...? “I’m not sure that would be...” I said, “I mean...” On top of everything else, I found that I was blushing.

“What if I told you that...well, uh... I actually... it’s not just sleeping pills... seriously, I do have some real problems...”

“What sort of problems...?”

“...Repressed memories.”

“Oh? When did that start?”

He smiled weakly. “After Celeste died. The time right before that is very fuzzy. And the time right after that is pretty much lost to me. I lost months... probably a lot more time than that.” He glanced at a clock on the wall and grinned a winning smile. “But I imagine my time’s up for today...”

“Yes, I suppose it is...”

“Unless you’d like to go out to dinner with me...?”

“Mr. Cutter, if you’re to be my client, I can’t... we can’t meet socially...”

“I’ve always liked women who have a bit of an authoritarian side to them...”

I took out my appointment book. “Let’s get you an appointment for next time. I don’t really appreciate walk-ins, and...”

“—Argh, I hate sticking to appointments. Being a magician isn’t exactly a 9-to-5 job...”

About the Authors:

Barb Lien-Cooper is originally from Minnesota. She was a guitarist/singer-songwriter, and got an album put out on the Imp label. However, she also had health issues: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and fibromyalgia and extreme environmental sensitivities and allergies. (She also has Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder due to issues involving her family of origin.)

For a while, brain fog from the CFS and the fibro made it harder for her to read long and involved works of fiction... So (since she'd always loved them in her childhood) she got into reading comics and graphic novels, particularly the comparatively avant-garde work coming out at that time from DC Comics.

Park Cooper was born and raised in central Texas he read a lot of books and comic books—and then one day, someone in the letter columns of the comic Sandman announced that they were doing a fanzine for readers of that comic. Barb and Park both wrote in.

Park liked the writing Barb submitted to the fanzine, and he wrote to her, and they began writing to each other. Then they started talking on the phone... they fell in love... they started visiting one another...

Then they got married! (To each other!)

They wrote about comics and popular culture for some websites (some of them award-winning), and wrote a lot of reviews and articles and things.

A little after that, Barb started writing her comic Gun Street Girl, and a little after that, they started adapting and editing many, many manga for major American publishers importing manga (and sometimes their South Korean and Chinese counterparts) from the far side of the Pacific. Near the end of this, Barb and Park wrote the manga pitch The Hidden for TokyoPop, perfectly timed to appear the week that that company fell apart.

Then Barb and Park wrote the sci-fi vampire graphic novel Half Dead for Marvel Comics and Dabel Brothers Productions.

 Somewhere around this time, Park successfully completed his Ph.D. in literature, and then Barb and Park wrote a vampire prose novel, and Park started writing his cyberpunk comic Swipe for Angry Viking Press, and there were also other various short stories and novels and non-manga-related editing jobs, too many to bother counting here...

These days, Barb and Park live happily together in Austin, Texas.

Web: https://parkgsg.wixsite.com/wickermanstudios 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/parkcooper 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100057705847859

[wastelandcth]

i’ll always come back to you - cth

summary: Calum wore a skirt. A stage reveal happens. 

author’s notes: I have no excuse but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 

warnings: Cal in a skirt (please it’s too good), car sex, PIV, calum blanks out a little, she’s back and better than ever!

masterlist || request || more doves

“What do you think I should wear?” Calum asked softly, his hands running through the different items in his closet once more, “It’s a pretty big show, I can’t just show up in something shitty. All I’ve worn for the past two years is either baggy jeans and a t-shirt or shorts and no shirt.” 

It was true, ever since the world had shut down and the band’s tour had been put on hold more times than Calum could count, his passion for fashion and finding new clothes to wear had been put on hold as well. Comfort and trying to stay sane in the middle of a worldwide pandemic had left him reaching for any signs of comfort to hold on to and keep him sane. But with the band’s first show slowly approaching and Calum’s nerves returning in the form of playing a fake bass while he tried to calm his racing mind, he knew he’d have to find an outfit sooner or later, and it’d have to be one to make him feel good about himself on stage once more. 

“I mean, I don’t think anyone would personally complain about you showing up shirtless to a show,” Dovey teased, her eyes tracing the muscles in Calum’s back as she sat on the edge of the bed, “I certainly wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah, but you’re a pervert so you have no choice,” Calum chuckled and threw another shirt towards his loving wife. 

The days had gone by and Calum had been stuck at rehearsals, trying his best to find the groove the band had long for ever since the start of the shutdown, but eventually, Calum found himself at home the morning of the show watching from the green room as the concert went on around the world. His bag, which he’d packed and unpacked multiple times that morning, laid on one of the couches. He knew he’d made the right choice, the look on Dovey’s face when he’d packed away the black fabric before she could get a peek of it enough of a reaction to make him smirk before he had rushed out the door at the sound of Ashton’s horn. 

“So, did you decide on an outfit?” Michael asked as he sat down next to him during a break in their soundcheck, watching as Calum’s leg swung along to whatever beat Ashton was trying to work out with Luke, “Dovey has been texting me all day asking if I’ve gotten a peek at it.” 

“Tell her to fuck off,” Calum chuckled, “I told her she had to wait like everyone else did to see it.” 

“Alright,” Michael huffed, nudging him playfully, “But we’re going to be the first to see it then.”

“Yeah, yeah, and she’ll manage to bully you into telling her somehow.” 

Calum looked in the mirror, inhaling a shaky breath as he fixed the collar of his suit jacket once more as he heard his bandmates chuckling outside of the bathroom door. With one final look at his outfit he opened the door and stepped out, goosebumps covering his skin as the cold air of the dressing room brushed against his legs. 

“Woah! Calum!” Ashton grinned, his eyes wide and his head nodding, “No man, that looks sick! I love it!” 

“Oh man, your dad is going to freak once he sees you on stage!” Luke nodded, “You look so good!”

“Guys, Dovey is literally going to kill us all,” Michael whined and clapped Calum on the shoulder, “You look fucking awesome, dude.”

Calum’s cheeks flushed, turning hot as he chuckled and shook his head, letting the curls he’d been growing out swish against his forehead while he tried his best not to push away his very excited and very supportive bandmates. It wasn’t until the room, which consisted of the four of them and their photographer started chanting for him to do a spin that he’d finally told them to fuck off. But with a spin, and a small bout of giggles that left him when the material of his skirt brushed against the back of his knees, Calum had never felt more prepared to play a show in his life, especially when he knew that Dovey would be in the crowd singing her heart out along with them all. 

Dovey’s eyes watched the crowd around her grow restless as time ticked slowly, minutes dragging on until the show would start. Her adrenaline was high as she heard an announcer overhead shout that the show would start in one minute, the pit in her stomach thrumming with excitement and the thought of seeing her husband and his best friends on stage again after so long. She knew how much Calum missed being on stage with them, how much he missed performing to a crowd of people singing the lyrics back to them, and so she knew that tonight’s performance would be nothing but perfect. The hum of a guitar backstage and the sound of cheers around her had Dovey on her feet before she even knew it, her wide eyes searching the stage for the man she’d married. 

“Oh my god, he did not,” she gasped, her cheers and clapping drowned out in the rest of the crowd as she saw Calum walking out on stage, “That bastard!”

On stage, under the shining lights and for everyone to see, Calum Hood stood grinning as his fingers moved easily over the strings of his bass. The silver chains, which hung across Calum’s waist, shone like his eyes as the set started. Dovey’s eyes tried their hardest to focus, her vision blurred by the tears that sprung out as she watched the love of her life sing his heart out on stage after too many months of being away from the one place he was able to lose himself in. The skirt, which Dovey was already drooling over, swayed along with every movement Calum made as she found herself swaying along with it, stuck in a never-ending dance she wasn’t sure she’d ever want to end. But when Ghost of You played out and Dovey’s eyes found Calum’s it was like the large crowds that had given her anxiety ever since Calum had mentioned the show and the loud music had all disappeared. 

There was no one but her and Calum standing there, swaying to the song that had meant more to them than anyone could have ever imagined. 

She knew their kids were watching from home, giggling and dancing along in the safety of their living room while the sitter recorded them for Dovey and Calum to cry along to later that night. But right now, in the moment, all she could think about was how despite all the things that had gone wrong and how scary the world had turned, she still had her family and the love of her life was singing to her in a room full of people once more. The set was over before Dovey even realized, her legs carrying her back towards the dressing room she’d left not too long ago and towards her husband and his amazingly talented friends. 

The night had become a whirlwind of events, Dovey’s arms wrapping around Calum and stuttering through her praises as her hands and eyes took in his after-show presence. Her mind was distracted throughout the rest of the promo the band had gone to do with the view of him in the skirt and mesh shirt that kept peeking in and out of view from where she stood with the rest of their team. Her eyes never left his as she watched him smile and laugh with the band and it wasn’t until the car door closed next to her and she watched Calum walk in front of the car before sliding into the driver’s seat that she let out the soft breath she was holding in. 

“So, what did you think of the show?” Calum asked as he pulled off the highway, his grin wide as his eyes glanced over at Dovey, “Did you like it? I think we did great. Yeah, the set was short but I think it we-”

“Calum, if you don’t pull over right now I will literally crash this car,” Dovey breathed out, her hand reaching out and squeezing Calum’s thigh gently. 

The car screech to a halt, Calum’s soft gasp lost on Dovey’s lips as she pulled him into a kiss, Calum’s body leaning over the console to pull her even closer to him. He and Dovey might not have been a couple of a thousand words, but he knew exactly what she was doing when her teeth pulled gently at his bottom lip. He also knew that they didn’t have much time before their car was steamed up and their moans echoed against the tinted windows, so Calum had to work fast. 

“Back seat, baby girl,” he breathed out, his forehead resting against his wife’s for just a second before she sprung into action, her soft laughter music to Calum’s ears. 

“I am. So proud. Of you.” Dovey mumbled in between the kisses she was leaving on Calum’s skin, her hips rolling against his and pressed up silver chains of his skirt, “You looked so fucking amazing on stage I couldn’t help but think about all the things I wanted you to do to me tonight.”

“Yeah?” Calum breathed out, his hands squeezing Dovey’s thighs as he helped her push up the hem of the skirt she was more than likely soaking through if his leaking cock wasn’t already at fault for it, “Gonna show me all those things you were thinking of?” 

“Mhm, only have time for one of them right now though,” Dovey smirked, her hand taking his cock and stroking it a few times, listening to the soft whimpers that left Calum as her own hips rocked against his solid thigh, “Have to wait until we’re back home for the others.” 

Calum’s eyes opened enough at one point to see the steam from their act fogging up the windows, the beads of moisture dripping down their foreheads matching the ones racing down the window next to his head. Above him, Dovey looked like an angel, her closed eyes and barely opened mouth making Calum think he was the luckiest man alive. His fingers had dug into her hips, soft whimpers leaving them both with every rock of their hips and Calum wasn’t sure if he’d ever want this feeling to end. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get tired of the way Dovey felt wrapped around him. He’d happily get lost in her warmth and never find his way out again if he could, but the coil in his stomach kept stretching and stretching, threatening to snap as he listened to Dovey’s moans grow louder and louder as her hips rose and fell with every one of them. 

“Calum,” she gasped out, one of her hands finding comfort in the soft curls she’d been playing with ever since they’d grown out and coiled against his head. 

“I know, I’ve got you,” Calum choked out, his own high speeding towards him as he felt Dovey clench around him as her hips paused and her whimpers were soaked into by Calum’s skin, “Oh fuck, baby, I-”

“Calum,” Dovey whispered, her soft kisses on Calum’s skin making the blinding white stars beneath his eyelids clear slowly, “Hey, come back to me,” she mumbled, the feeling of her fingers running through his hair grounding Calum back to the backseat of his car. 

His lungs hurt, the panting breaths he was taking sounding over the muffled music playing from the radio in the front, and his vision was still blurred as he watched Dovey leaned back against his thighs, her hair tousled and her dress still rucked up over her hips. It took him a couple more breaths, the thick air coating his lungs until finally, Calum’s hand found Dovey’s in the darkness of the car and he smiled lazily. 

“You back with me, Hood?” she asked softly and smiled, the gentle squeeze she gave his hand making him nod. 

“I always come back to you,” Calum whispered, “Always.” 

join my taglist: @hoodhoran @moonlightcriess @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lowkeyflop  @conversecake @hemmo1996-5sosvevo @ashtonsunflower @2fangirl4u @multistann @wiiildflowerrr @himbohood @in-superbloom​ @suchalonelysunflower @killmywildflower @sebsbrokentoe @nicebasscalum @letmereadpls  @xxxlaura

[theunquenchablethirst]

Joyride (Jerome X Reader)

Smut, NSFW, 18+, porn without plot, honestly just hot, nasty filth 

Do not read unless you are a deviant!

Reader is walking home down a street she knows just like the back of her hand, but today there's an unfamiliar car parked up. Paying it no mind she continues past it, but soon discovers today is not going to be any regular day when a sinister voice calls to her from the mysterious car behind her.

Vaginal fingering, blowjobs, rough sex, semi-public sex, car sex, bondage, chocking, spanking, dom/sub undertones, dub-con, strong language, murder, kidnap

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Masterlist

I walked that street nearly every day, to and from Gotham High. I had for years. This would be my last year as I was 18 and about to graduate.

Everything seemed as normal as ever. The pretzel cart, the lady that walked her little dog, the kids playing jump rope. A fairly quiet street. I didn't know it then, but that day would be anything, but normal.

I was approaching the end of the street where I would cross the road. There was a car parked up I hadn't seen before. Big, black with tinted windows. I didn't pay it much attention and wasn't hesitant to carry on my walk past it. I reached the end of the street and stood waiting for the traffic to quiet so I could cross over, then behind me I heard the familiar sound of a car window winding down.

"Hey, princess." A sinister voice called.

I turned to look and peering out of the black car window was him. The most dangerous, most wanted man in Gotham city. Jerome Valeska.

I'd only seen him on the news and in papers before, but even then, he had scared me. He'd brought the city to its knees and left a trail of bodies and madness wherever he went. And now he was right in front of me.  

"Can I give you a ride?" He asked with his signature smile plastered on his scarred face, voice dripping with menace.

I froze still. I wanted to run as fast as I could, but his stare glued me to my spot.

"Come on, doll. I'll be nice."

I took a step back, weighing the risk of making a run for it. He sucked his teeth and looked down for something.

"I'd offer you candy, but uh..." He pulled a gun up to the window and pointed it at me.

"... Something tells me I won't need to." His smile somehow grew bigger as he locked his eyes on mine.

My heart was beating so loud I thought the whole city would be able to hear it. I had no choice. Knees weak, I nervously walked around to the passenger side door and opened it. I sat in the seat next to him, but pressed myself as close to the window as I could. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, even if it was only by a few inches.  

"Ah, safety first. Seatbelt." He said dropping his smile and cocking his head.

Not caring weather or not he was joking, I pulled down the belt and buckled myself in. I did not want to make him angry. He grinned eerily and panic rose in my chest as his eyes burned holes in me.  

He reached a gloved hand out to my face. I flinched as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear and stroked his knuckles down my jaw line and neck. His hand moved lower still down my arm, only stopping when he got to my shaking hand. I was grasping my bag so tightly my knuckles had turned white. He tugged at it a few times wanting me to let go. I released the bag and he pulled it off my lap and into his.

"Let's see what we got here."

He started to rummage through my possessions pulling each one out, mostly dubbing them boring and dumping them out of the window.

"Pain killers, boring. Pencil case, extra boring. Ooh, Jolly Ranchers! Don't mind if I do!"

He popped a sweet in his mouth, threw the rest over his shoulder into the back seat and got back to snooping.

"Keys, boring. Oh! A diary! I'll save that for later! A can of mace...."

He paused then let out a loud cackle as he held the mace.

"Oh, princess! Bet you wish you'd switched this out for a gun right about now!" He continued to giggle as he dived a hand back in.

"Aha! Phone!" He dropped my bag back in my lap and opened up my flip phone.

"You won't be needing this." He smirked and snapped it, letting the two halves fall and disappear under the driver's seat. Dread began to settle in as it dawned upon me that I now had no way to call for help and my mace was lying in the street. Not that it would've been much use against him anyway.

"Ok! Let's get this party started!" His giggled as he turned the key in the ignition. He turned towards me and revved the engine.

"Vroom, vroom." He mocked.

I sat there clutching my bag, waiting for the car to start moving. He fiddled with the gear stick and then slammed his foot down on the pedal as if there was a deadly bug that needed to be squashed. The tyres screeched like they were taking a layer of tarmac with them and he took off like a boy racer.  

I let out a scream as the sudden, fast pace sent a shockwave right through me. I sent my hands searching for something, anything to hold on to. There was a turn coming up, but I noticed it too late and I was flung into the side of the door like a ragdoll. All the time the loudest noise in my ear was maniacal laughter coming from Jerome in driver's seat. He was driving like he stole it, but then again, it was entirely possible he did.

"More?" He looked at me with a mischievously.

I shook my head, breathlessly, praying to any god that was listening that he actually cared about my answer.

"I think more." He sharply turned into an empty car park and spun around and around and around. I was pressed right up against him as I clung to the bottom of my seat. He laughed and banged his hand on the wheel, continuing to spin us around.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" I screamed forgetting myself.  

"Oh, I love 'em with fire!" He laughed again.  

Then all of a sudden, he stopped. I jolted forwards like a crash dummy so hard I thought I would hit the windshield. He'd been right about the seatbelt. I stared straight ahead and tried to catch my breath, when I heard angry shouting. An employee of the restaurant that owned the car park was making his way over to us with a red face.

Jerome stuck his head out of the window.

"What's that, pal?"  

I heard more shouting.

"Ok." Jerome reached for the gun and shot the employee straight in the head. I gasped at the sound and he fell down like a sack of bricks.

"Problem solved." Jerome grinned and pocketed the gun.

I felt my stomach turn. I'd just seen a murder right in front of me. That poor man. Jerome started the car again and left the car park, where he'd left a dead body and certainly tyre tracks.

"Some fun, eh kid?" He smiled at me. I couldn't find any words to reply. He sighed.

"I hate awkward silences." He reached down and turned on the radio. He flicked through a few channels until he found one playing music he seemed to like. An old rock station.

"Now this is better!" He looked at me with a satisfied smile, but dropped it when I still didn't reply.

"How do I get you to talk? Do I gotta drop a quarter in ya?" He turned another corner onto a straight, quiet road.

"I know." He smirked with a menacing look in his eyes.  

He pushed the pedal down, once again picking up speed. He was driving like there was money on it, but I'd at least managed to brace myself this time. He slowed a little as he got in place to drive side by side with the only other car on the road. He chuckled darkly to himself and then I realized why. Fear took my senses when I saw in the not too far distance, heading straight at us was a giant truck. The driver in the car next to us began to honk the horn and flash obscene hand gestures as the truck grew closer, but Jerome simply turned the radio up and began singing along with the words.

"Jerome..." I said tugging at his arm.

Nothing. And the truck was now honking at us to move.  

"Jerome!"  

The truck was too close for comfort. The sense that I was about to be flattened because of the idiot at the wheel filled my body.

"Jerome, move the damn car!" I shook his arm fiercely and slammed my fists in my chair.

He finally burst out cackling maniacally with an outrageous smile.

He slammed down the pedal and pulled forward in front of the car beside us, missing the truck by a hair. He laughed and howled like it was the funniest thing he'd ever experienced, whilst I sighed the biggest sigh of my life and slid low down my seat. He pulled over and parked.

"Nothing like a little near-death experience to get the blood flowing, eh doll?"  

I had melted into my seat and wasn't really paying attention.

"So, how'd you like me so far?"

"Is that a serious question?" I replied breathlessly. I didn't know where I got the confidence for it, but the words were coming out.

He just giggled.

"Ok, how about I behave... For a while."

"How about you let me go?"

He lifted a long finger at me.

"Tut tut, doll face. Don't make me wiggle my finger at you."

I shuffled backwards in my seat, propping myself upright again.

"So, you know my name? Are you stalking me?" He put his hand on his chest in mock fear.

"Everyone in Gotham knows your name. You're Jerome Valeska. You've terrorised the city and murdered dozens of people. The Gotham Gazette makes sure we don't miss these things."  

"The Gotham Gazette, huh? Note to self, send a gift basket their way." He chuckled to himself then looked at me.

“So, what’s yours?”

I told him my name. I was reluctant, but I was already here in the car with him.

“Hm, cute.” He replied.

I didn’t know why, but him calling me cute made me blush a little. I hoped he didn’t notice.

“You look fun.” He smiled.

“What do you mean?” I asked the question, but I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know the answer.

He pulled my diary out of the door pocket.

“Let’s get to know you, shall we?”  

“That’s private.” I said sheepishly. I really didn’t want him reading what was in there, but I knew I couldn’t stop him.

“Not anymore.” Jerome flicked through the pages, skimming them for interesting thoughts and secrets. It didn’t look like he was finding anything juicy, until he stopped at one page and read it in its entirety.

“I got asked out by a guy in my maths class. He’s nice, but really boring. Just like everyone else in my life. Even if I wanted to go out with him, my dad wouldn’t allow it. He says men are the devil and the only one I can trust is him. Yeah right, Mr it’s 5’oclock somewhere. Even if I took that seriously, he doesn’t have anything to worry about. The only guys in my life are complete clichés. So very predictable, so very dull. I’m so bored of this same old-same old. I want something exciting, an adventure. I need some thrills in this beige goddamn existence!”

He repeated back to me the words I had written just a week prior. He turned to me with a predatory look in his eyes. He let the diary fall from his hands carelessly and I knew then that I would be his prey. He took his gloves off and reached a hand towards my knee. He stroked and squeezed my leg and then journeyed up higher, fingers crawling underneath the hem of my skirt.

“Be careful what you wish for, doll face.” He smirked, darkly.

My breath caught in my chest and I felt a warmth in my core.

"I thought you said you were gonna behave." I peeped.

"I did, didn't I? I guess I lied."  

He pulled my skirt up and ran a finger along my panty covered slit. He was turning me on. I wanted him. He was everything I had been looking for, but it was wrong. I couldn’t give in to this.

"Please... Stop..." I pleaded pathetically.

"Mmm, I don't think I will."  

He softly rubbed my folds through the white cotton. My breath got heavier and I felt the heath build.

"It would be so easy for me to push these little things out of the way and slide my fingers inside you, right now. Wouldn't it?"

"Please... Don't..."

He giggled darkly.

"Oh, princess. You're just too cute."  

He smiled as he moved the material to the side exposing my entrance. He slid his fingers up and down my slit, my juices covering the tips. I squirmed at his touch and tried to scooch back in my seat.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, doll, but you wouldn't be this wet if you didn't really want me inside you." He cooed. His words crashed into me like rocks. He could read my body just as well as my diary. I couldn't hide my desire from him and I didn’t want too.  

He continued to rub for a few more seconds before plunging a finger deep inside me. I let out a gasp at the sudden intrusion and he smirked, seemingly satisfied with my response. He worked me with his finger, pulling out before sliding it back in and deciding to add another. He slowly pulsed his fingers inside me, palming over my clit as he slid in and out, again and again. The swell of warmth in me grew as I rocked my hips.

He pulled his fingers out entirely, leaving me disappointed and empty. I looked at him as he examined the juices coating him. He smiled at me and raised them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Mmm. You're so sweet." He said as he lowered them, his voice now deeper and slightly raspy.

He unbuckled his seatbelt, then did mine. He pushed the bag off my lap down to where my feet were and reached his arm around my waist, pulling me backwards, closer to him. He leaned me against him as one hand travelled up from my waist and wrapped around my throat. His other came down, pulled up my skirt and parted my thighs. He pushed my panties to the side once again and introduced his other hand to my wetness. His two fingers sliding in and out, but this time a little faster and much deeper. I let a yelp escape my mouth and his hand squeezed harder around my throat. His hot breath in the crook of my neck gave me goosebumps and sent chills down my spine.  

He explored my walls entirely, hitting all the right spots, hot pleasure pulsing through my muscles as they clenched around his talented digits. He palmed my clit applying a gentle amount of pressure and rubbing in circles. I bit my lip in an attempt muffle my moans.

"Nuh uh. Let me hear you, baby girl." He taunted in my ear.

Two fingers from the hand around my throat pulled my mouth open and played with my tongue.  

"You got something to say, princess?" He pushed his fingers deeper into me until his knuckles stopped him from going any further and pumped them, his thumb circling my clit in sweet slow motions. A loud moan escaped my throat and he smiled evilly.

"That's better." He snarled as he put his full hand back around my throat.  

My legs started to stiffen and I felt my climax build as I tightened around his fingers.

"You wanna cum, baby?"  

He worked his fingers inside my walls and his thumb on my clit, slightly increasing the pressure. His breath came closer to my ear and I felt him take it gently in his teeth. I yelped at the shock of his bite.  

"Mm. So cute."

I rocked my hips against his hand. My release was close, it just needed a little push.

"Cum for me, princess. Cum on my fingers."

As if on his command, the dam burst and my climax washed over me. My legs shook and I moaned as I rode it out. He pulled his fingers out of me slid them in my mouth so I could taste my own juices.

“See, gorgeous. I can play nice.” He buried his face in my hair and took in my scent. He hummed to himself and I felt his grip on my throat tighten. He pulled me forwards and pushed me towards the back seat.

“My turn.” He grinned as he sat up.

I climbed into the back, closely followed by Jerome. I sat down and he straddled me, towering over me with his red hair brushing against the car ceiling. I saw the outline of his hard member pushing against the inside of his trousers. It was right in front of my face and my mouth watered for it. I suppose he caught me looking because he started to palm himself and lifted my chin up so I was looking at him.

“Do you have something sweet for me?” He leaned down closer to me, his grip on my face tightening.

I swallowed and felt the lump in my throat. He crashed his lips onto mine. The kiss was hard and forceful, just like he was. His tongue pushed into my mouth and fought for dominance over mine. It was an easy win for him. He tasted sweet, like the Jolly Ranchers. I assumed that wasn’t the first candy he’d eaten that day. He pulled away from me and smiled, studying my face with hooded eyes.

“Yummy.” He whispered.  

He rose back up and unbuckled his belt. He pulled it from out of its loops, held it in front of him and snapped it quickly. I flinched at the loud sound of the leather.

“Hands.” He ordered in a serious, intimidating tone that aroused me all the more.

I held my hands up to him and he looped the belt in and around my wrists, tightly bonding them together.

“No hands for this. I wanna see how that pretty little mouth works.” He smirked lifting my chin again, tugging my bottom lip with his thumb.

He palmed himself a little more and then unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, letting them fall around his knees. I could see through his boxers that he was fully erect already. He slid them down and they joined his trousers. Jerome was big. I was worried I wasn’t going to be able to take it all, especially without the use of my hands. He balled my hair in his hand and gripped hard. I gasped at the sudden pain.

“Come on, princess. You know what to do.” He pulled me forwards and plunged into my open mouth. He let out a hiss of pleasure.

He raked his free hand through my loose hair before clenching it in his fist. He used his grip on my head to move me up and down his shaft, prompting me to start. I swirled my tongue around him and started sucking. He hissed again through gritted teeth and pushed in further. My tongue climbed up and down his shaft, licking the sticky coating of precum from him and teasing the head. I hollowed my cheeks and bobbed up and down, letting my saliva cover him.

“Oh, yeah... Fuck, pretty girl.” He groaned in his throat and bucked his hips forwards with force.

He hit the back of my throat and I gagged. The noise seemed to please him so he did it again and again and again. My lips touched his base as he assaulted my throat, gripping tighter on my hair with each thrust. I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face and eyes begging for breath, but it just pushed him further.

He let out a primal growl and pushed my head right into the back of the seat. He held me steady and started to thrust into my face fast and hard. My throat was aching and my jaw was locking. His breath was shallow and erratic. I could tell he was close. I sucked harder for him and my throat clenched tightly.  

“Fuuuuck...” He groaned finally coming to a stop.  

I felt him throb and twitch in my mouth as his climax shot straight down my throat for me to swallow. He was still for a few seconds, then he pulled out with a pleasing pop. He looked down at me catching his breath with a smile.

“Don’t have to tell you twice, huh?” He laughed and lowered his head to kiss me.

He didn’t seem to care he’d just cum in my mouth and kissed just as rough as the first time. This time biting my lip as he pulled away. He slid his hand back up into my hair and balled it again.

“As great as that was princess, I’m still harder than Chinese algebra. So...” Jerome climbed off my lap and shoved me down onto my front.

“All fours.” He commanded.

I positioned myself on my knees and elbows, which was difficult considering my wrists were tied. I felt him roll my skirt up and part my legs. I swallowed. After having him go so rough on my mouth, I was nervous about how he was going to be with this.

“I gotta say, this is some view back here. Shame I don’t have a camera.” He said caressing my thighs.

He hooked his fingers under the band of my underwear and slid them down around my knees. I felt so exposed and my face started to heat up and turn red with embarrassment. I couldn’t believe I was allowing myself to be this vulnerable for a criminal lunatic.

He started to rub my entrance with two fingers. Warmth welling in my core, any thoughts of reservation vanished from my mind. I felt a fast, harsh sting as he brought a hand down to spank me. I gasped at the smack and he stroked the spot where it landed, where there was sure to be a red handprint.  

“Now I really wish I had a camera.” He giggled darkly.  

I squirmed at his touch and tried to close my thighs, desperate for friction, but he kept them spread by sliding his knee between them.

“Oh no, gorgeous. I need you open wide.” He smirked.

I whimpered needily, wanting nothing more than to take him inside me.

“You want something, baby girl? Speak up.” He taunted evilly, sliding his fingers along my slit. He raised his hand back up and then... another spank.

All I could do was whimper. I didn’t want to say what I wanted from him.

“I can’t hear you....” He sing-songed. “What do you want?”  

He circled a finger over my clit teasingly. He was purposefully not giving me enough. Just baiting me. He brought his hand down again for another swift spank. I was sure there was a bruise forming.

“I want you...” I whispered.

“What’s that?” He mocked, sliding his fingers in the slickness of my entrance.

“I want you! I want you to fuck me!” I snapped. I couldn’t take the teasing and taunting any longer. I just needed him.

He chuckled menacingly.

“You want me to fuck you? You wanna take me?”

“Yes! Yes! God, yes!”

He laughed at my neediness. I felt pathetic.

“Sure thing, doll.”

He lined himself up so he could enter me and pushed forwards, grasping hard onto my hips. I moaned loudly as he filled me for the first time, making a low, throaty groan. He reached deep into me and set me on fire in places that I didn't even know were there.  

He kept a quick rough pace, digging his fingertips into my flesh tighter to keep me still and steady. I knew he was leaving marks, but I couldn’t have cared in the slightest in that moment. His thrusts made me whine and whimper for him, to have more of him. He growled like he was letting out some kind of inner beast.

He let go of one of my hips and slid his hand up my back and into my hair. Once he had a good fistful, he pulled it like a leash, tugging my head up and back. I gasped at the sharp pain, but the sound only seemed to feed more into his sadistic wanting and he pounded harder into me. The feel of how deep he was inside me banished all the pain and replaced it with pure pleasure and I bit down hard on my lip to stifle wanton cries. I felt another rough tug on my hair.

“Don’t you dare, little girl. Let me hear it. I wanna hear everything.” He demanded through short, quick breaths.

He pulled back on my hair again and I released a squeal of half pain and half pure elation. I could feel myself tightening around him. I was getting ready to burst.

“I... I’m...I’m gonna...” I panted.

“Oh, no you fucking don’t.”  

He gripped the back of my scalp and pulled me backwards, slamming me down onto my back and climbing on top of me.

“I wanna see it this time.”

He had acted so fast, I barely had time to register what he was doing and he was back inside me almost as soon as he had pulled out.

He buried his head in the crook of my neck, sucking and kissing, his teeth leaving delicious hickeys and bitemarks. When he came back up for breath, he wrapped his hand around my throat and pushed my bonded arms above my head, which I was grateful for as they were getting squashed between us. He crashed his lips onto mine for a rough kiss. His tongue demanded entrance to my mouth, which I gladly allowed.

With his other hand he caressed and stroked his hand down my thigh and under my calf. He then pulled it up and pushed it back so far it almost reached my shoulder. He adjusted himself to straddle my lower thigh and picked up a faster, harder pace. With my leg like this he was able to plunge deeper. He was forceful and powerful and I relished in every thrust. I cried out completely taken by my lust for him, closing my eyes to savour it all. I felt the sting of a slap on my cheek and flashed them back open.

“Right here, princess. Eyes right here.” He said, his voice low and raspy.  

His pupils were completely dilated, leaving only the thinnest ring of green around them. He seemed to be an apex predator that was in the midst of ravaging its prey and I was only too willing to be led to the slaughter.  

“Exciting enough for ya, sweetheart?” He smirked with a fiendish giggle.

“Uh huh...” I nodded dazedly.  

His laugh continued through the onslaught of fierce, deep thrusts pounding intensely into my lower regions. I tensed around his pulsing erection as I felt my climax creep back up on me. I let out loud erotic moans, as he built up more and more of that blissful warmth in my core.

“That’s right. Cum for me.” He grunted through gritted teeth, tightening his grip on my throat.

His pounding got faster and rougher, hitting my sweet spots exactly right. I was right on the edge of what I could tell was going to be a fantastic release. I got louder and louder as I came closer and teetered the brink.

“Yeah.. I... I’m.. Yeah... I’m gonna...”

“Go on, princess. Cum. Cum for me.”  

My orgasm shattered through me like a rock through glass. My body convulsed as my moans turned into lustful screams. The ferocity of it was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The sheer ecstasy took me higher than I’d ever been before. I was on a cloud and I could have stayed there forever. Jerome followed shortly after, growling like a beast as he exploded inside me. He collapsed breathlessly on top of me as I gently floated down from that little piece of heaven.  

“Oh, baby girl. I’m keeping you!” Jerome dropped a kiss on my lips and lifted himself up.  

I came to my senses and started to register the severity of what I had done. Or had it happened to me?  

“What does that mean?” I asked, nervous of his answer.  

He pulled up his underwear and trousers and tidied himself up, even taking time to straighten his tie.

“It means, baby doll, that this is gonna be the start of a beautiful friendship.”  

He laughed his signature maniacal cackle and hopped back in the driver's seat.

“Hey! Are you gonna untie me?” I called to him starting to get very worried.

“I don’t know, doll. I kinda like you like that.” He laughed.

He turned the key in the ignition and revved the engine.  

“Hold on, doll!” He cackled again, before speeding off again.

What have I gotten myself into?

[littlefreya]

The Devil’s Tongue

Summary: A mask of virtue hides a man riddled with lust and while his stoicism proceeds him, even he can’t withstand a begging girl. 

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Warning: 18+. Manhandling, abuse of power, MaleDom/FemSub, some thigh riding, unprotected sex, deflowering, loss of virginity, mild mentions of blood, sex in front of mirror (auto-voyeurism), profanities, bodily fluids, possessive behaviour. 

Words: 4.5k

A/N: Many thanks to my muse @agniavateira for supporting me through this story and for betaing. This was inspired by a certain scene in the film. My pervy mind took it elsewhere. Sincerely, I am not sure how I feel about it, so I’ll let you be the judge while I’m having my panic attack. 

Please reblog and give feedback if you enjoyed. 🖤

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, ideas or parts it and claiming it as your own*

Title: The Devil’s Tongue

The treacherous moon was already high in the midnight sky and winds of melancholia whispered through the ivy leaves that grew timidly around the window’s panes. Despite the solace of night, her blood seeped with venom, and vicious thorns grew beneath her skin.

Striding through the desolate corridors of Holmes’ estate, Vanessa fumed while listening to the sounds of the old house: the creaking of the floorboards, the glass panes rattling in the wind, and the scratching of mice that ran between the walls. A kerosene lamp hung heavy between her sweaty fingers; her knees cracked as she marched forward to face her master.

Same as every night, Sherlock hid in his library to chase adventures behind thin sheets of paper. He was not to be disturbed, though he left her no choice.

Sent her away he did, claiming that her service was no longer needed even though she was promised a home at the estate, despite Enola’s departure. The worst of it was that he didn’t even bother telling her himself, but simply sent another servant to announce that she must pack her belongings tonight.

‘Like hell, I would!’

Vanessa willed her heart to beat slowly as she tiptoed, cursing every wooden plank that grated beneath her feet. It’s been over a year since she started working for the Holmes family, and despite battling her concupiscence tooth and nail, Mr. Holmes has possessed her very existence. Sleepless nights left her yearning to drink the mead of his mouth and feel the slapping of his skin onto hers.

Wistfully, the brooding detective only stared at her with a lustre of ice. But the notion of never seeing him again felt like holding a blade pointed to her chest; the wish to confess nibbled in her gut like a pesky little fish.

‘At least I will have the chance to say farewell…’ she mused as she finally reached the open doorway of the library. It was a cosy cavern, stuffed with endless shelves of books and vases of pink roses to mellow its austerity.

Wood burnt to a crisp within the hearth, its aromatic scent bleeding into the air and a light layer of ashen mist wafted over the chamber. There sat her master, resting comfortably on his maroon leather armchair with a book in one hand and a pipe pressed between his succulent lips like a king on a throne of solitude.

Silently she stared, brow furrowing at his sight. It baffled her how a man can be so oblivious to the dangerous power he had over women. Sherlock was as divine as the coldest day of winter: eyes of crystal snow, curls darker than the night, and sharp facial features that gave a tinge of intimidating flavour. The ancient god Hades would have been jealous of his divinity. Even in these serene moments, Sherlock’s presence exhumed dominant masculinity, consuming oxygen like the fire that burnt in the mantle.

Clad in a white cotton shirt loose over his broad chest, he calmly turned a page on his book and sighed.

It was impossible not to sense her nearby. The young woman was a breeze of autumn wind: spiced yet soothing, bringing the omen of a season’s change. She tried very hard to hide her feral nature, abiding, serving, and acting polite. While she fooled everyone, including herself, he detected the brazen kiss that raged within her.

Nights were riddled by dreams of dismantling her shackles, only to bind her further to himself. And yet, every time he looked at her a loathing rage gnawed inside. To him, she was a dire trap meant to expose the thing that hid behind his mask of virtue—a reckless savage, sick with twisted desire.

It took true power to send her away. Yet, here she was, barging into his shelter to pour another drop of simmering turmoil into his already seething blood.

“Can’t sleep, Nessie?”

Vanessa jolted with a startle. His deep voice threaded tendrils of dark silk around her heart, attempting to draw it further out of her fragile ribcage. Maintaining attention on the book in his hand, Sherlock’s mouth twitched into a cold grin of respect, sensing her glare stabbing at his nape.

“You might be a mouse, but you have the stomp of an elephant.”

Forcing the book shut with a soft thud, Sherlock turned his head aside, daring to catch a glimpse of her. His pretentious smile died, and a surge of passion seized at his groin. Like the virgin Persephone, she stood before him wrapped in a sheer nightgown, the creamy fabric barely hiding her delicacies. A mystic glow of sweet honey and amber gold rimmed her flesh, kissing down her clavicles and leading his enslaved gaze to the soft heaps at her chest.

By courtesy, he should have looked away, but the wish to incinerate the silken threads that retained whatever left of her modesty whispered in his ear like a little devil that sat on his shoulder. It was cruel of her to provoke him like this.

Quirking an eyebrow with disdain, he finally battled the sight away.

“Something ails you, girl.” Sherlock’s rich baritone dropped. Touching the pipe to his maw, he took a long whiff and suckled his lip. “You seem unnecessarily emotional,” he noted dryly, pretending as if her appearance was a mystery.

Noticing the uncaring shift in his tone, she scowled and stepped carefully into the room. Placing the lamp on a nearby stand, she purposely stepped into his line of sight and looked at the frowning detective with the feral wilderness growing inside her chest.

“You’re sending me away tomorrow,” an unmistakable hint of rage seeped between the cracks in her voice. Grasping her knuckles, she began striding back and forth across the Parisian rug as if lost in her own musings, “why? What have I done to you?”

A small huff escaped his nose, and he rubbed a finger beneath his bottom lip. His patience spread thin as the young lady scurried about with hysteria. The mere idea of bending her over and teaching her some discipline caused the fabric of his trousers to stretch over his engorging desire.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, it was simply my decision.” He answered, striving to sound neutral and remorseless. “A lady’s maid without a lady is useless in a place like this. But now, Vanessa, it’s late, and I’d like to get back to my book. No reason for you to stand here in your... undergarments.”  

Lips agape and feet nearly colliding on to one another, Vanessa paused on her steps. His words crept a chill down the length of her spine, making her cheeks blaze. Passionate and irrational, she never even noticed her lack of chastity when she left her room.

“I… didn’t think much, I was upset…”

‘Of course, she didn’t think much. Irrational, savage thing.’

A string twitched in Sherlock’s cheek, and a dark errant lock fell rogue upon his pale temple as he turned his head aside, adamant to brush her away. His self-restraint was but a delicate, dying leaf, hanging by its last yellowing strand.

“I came here to ask you to…”

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable.” Sherlock interrupted and swatted his hand flat on the leather binding. His stern glance floated out the window, focusing on a large spider that threaded lines of silver amidst the peeling frames. “You will find a new job in London, a better house,” he apprised and took a deep inhale, turning the book over to open it where he paused. “Now please leave before we’ll both hurt one another.”

‘Before I will pierce cavities in your soft flesh.’

Stunned by his dismissive, arctic demeanour, her stubbornness and frustration only grew to monstrous proportions. With clenched fists and water pooling at her lids, she grunted and took a courageous step closer, standing at the fore of his couch while shaking her head.

“No!”

“No!?” he scowled, eyebrows lowering with dismay. “You forget your place, woman.” He flashed her a quick warning look, his icy glare tinted midnight black as he stood at his wit’s end.

If only it didn’t make her heart shrivel with wanton. Their proximity perilously close, Sherlock’s strong scent pervaded into her lungs: a musky blend of whiskey, leather, and fine tobacco that made her thighs wobble. Before she could even register what’s happening, her knees were brushing the thick carpet, her decorum and dignity gone.

“I want to stay here. With you.”  Slender like stalking vines, her fingers crawled onto the armchair, squeezing at the smooth leather with pitiable desperation.

“Keep me, please!”

“Vanessa,” Sherlock drawled, still refusing to meet her gaze while his thumb circled deep into the coarse binding. Furious tides rose in his eyes, whisked by the rageful storm that inhabited his mind, “Do not make me regret this night.”

He didn’t want to hurt her, but she was pretty when she begged.

“You don’t know what it is that you’re asking, I am not the gentleman you think I am.”

Ignoring his warning, she insisted. Daring, needy talons rose from the armchair to claw at his arm, clutching it with demand. Even through barriers, a surge flushed between their bodies.

“Sherlock,” she half-whispered, crystal droplets of sadness gliding down the smooth slope of her cheeks. Not caring the least as they dribbled onto the soft sleeve of his shirt, leaving tiny stains that dampened his arm.

“Guide me, teach me, make me yours!”

Nostrils flaring and breath rigid, the large man finally snapped his stare at her with the sanguine hunger of a starved vampire. The mask of his virtue fell shattering to the floor, and a harrowing silence took over the room, diffused only by the sound of crackling embers and Vanessa’s shaky breath.

“Remember this tomorrow when you’re raw and hurting; this is what your begging bought you, little Nessie.”

A strangled gasp died at her sternum as his hand suddenly grasped her throat. With a quick yank, she was up on her feet, her toes barely scraping the ground as the hulking man held her up to his face.

“Oh the things I’ll do to you..” he whispered as his thumb dug deep onto her cheek and the rest of his fingers etched at her throat.

Swinging on his boots, he swept her across the silent halls. His stride a dark ceremonial gyrate, the creamy fabric of her pristine nightgown floating mid-air like a sheer tongue of white morning mist.  

“I will make you mine as you begged,” he rasped barbarically, one hand pushing the door open while the other held her attached to his chest, “I will teach you what you asked…” his lips brushed her ear, his breath hot over her cheek, “your first lesson begins... in my bed.”

With a swift shove, she was forced into his realm. Feet stumbling upon the tepid wooden floor, her ears throbbed with shock. Her hands reached to grasp onto the engraved bed column to prevent herself from falling.

His bedroom smelled of dying roses and smoked wicks, echoing the putrid decadence that gnawed at Sherlock’s mind. A dozen melting candles burned in every secluded corner, their little orange tongues licking the reflection of a sizable mirror that stood opposite of his large bed.

A dull metallic click broke the air, followed by Vanessa’s sputtering breath as she saw him lock the door. Her faith sealed - now caged in the lair of the beast. Reduced to his own shimmering shadow, Sherlock advanced toward her, ripping his shirt off.

Fingers biting into the wooden pole, Vanessa stared, unable to determine if it was a man or a lycan god who stood before her. Every breath made his bare torso look menacing. Under the deep dusky twilight, his muscles curved and stretched, coated by a virile, dark fur.

Curious, her gaze followed the striking veins and the trail of unkempt hair that paved its way down his fine abdomen and disappeared beneath his trousers. Guiding to that which she feared and wanted at once.

Eyes of blue flame shone with absent remorse, brows arched with a pretentious demeanour as he reached a hand to seize her to him. “Your innocence dies here tonight,” he hissed in her ear, “from now on, you’ll be my little whore to plough as I please.”

The air died in her lungs as his firm chest collided with hers and his knee forced her legs apart. Bulging and muscular, his thigh rose to brush at her clit, the thin fabrics a shy barrier.

Shuddering, she swallowed hard in a dire battle to find her voice. “I will be whatever you need me to be,” she retorted as the thought of being exploited by her master released fluttering butterflies of fear and excitement in her chest.

Sherlock smirked and captured her jaw between his finger and thumb as he leaned in. Torrid lips hovered over her own, offering a phantom kiss to distract her from the greedy fingers that pushed the sleeves of the gown off her shoulders.

Like warm milk it poured down her body, exposing her delicacies to the night and to the gluttonous hands that kneaded her breasts while he flicked his tongue over her closed mouth, tasting the plumpness of her lips.

A true creature of the underworld, Sherlock’s touch was cruel like his promises; he took as he pleased, leaving his sigil seething on her skin. Her sputtering gasps served as an opportunity to invade her hot cavern. The detective’s kiss was even more ruthless, his tongue smooth as silk seized and conquered her breath.

She could feel him streaming in her blood, tasting him all the way down through her gut. Dark and intoxicating like poisonous absinthe, the promise of death swung amidst their hot, serpent-like dance.

Yet she only yearned to drink to her demise.

As if under a stupor, she swayed to his spells, bucking her hips to ground herself on the meat of his thigh, leaving the coarse fabric wet with sticky arousal. A condescending grin tugged at his lips, and his hand rushed to the back of her head, weaving through her hair and yanking her back.

“Already the wanton harlot,” he spat, swiftly turning her over and holding her against his chest. “Look at yourself,” he growled hoarsely in her ear, forcing her doe eyes to stare at their reflection. Sherlock rested his dimpled chin on the top of her head with his brows lowered like an apex predator examining his prey.

His hand disappeared behind, hastily fumbling with his trousers, “You wanted me to show you, you want to see,” he called as his trousers piled at his feet and he carefully stepped out.

Something hefty and hard nudged at the small of her back, turning her veins into thin tendrils of ice. Abysmal panic coiled at her gut at the realisation that Sherlock meant to reshape her as the vessel of his primal urge.

Hand snaking around her belly, he snatched her to fall back onto the mattress with him pillowing her fall. Her firm buttocks slid across his hairy abdomen, hands fumbling to grasp his thick thighs while her eyes flared at the sight of his hardened cock displayed in front of her in its full generous size.

It was nothing like the medical illustrations she saw in books: bulging tendons swerved across an imposing, meaty rod. Ridges rippled across its girth like soft silk, and the heart-shaped head dripped of glistening, pearly arousal.

Curious, her trembling hand wandered to feel him, stunned by the liquid-like texture that engulfed the absurd rigidness. By order of her touch, he twitched and swelled, causing the radiating heat at the apex of her groin to palpitate.

Pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, Sherlock growled, “Do you like what you see, little one?”

His taut hands reached to grasp her thighs, spreading her wide over each of his legs and holding them apart to expose her untouched sleek at the mirror. The thundering in his throat was nothing but animalistic as he glowered at her perfect sight: his little Nessie, his little untainted flower blooming fresh with dew, yearning to be plucked.

“Look at yourself,” Sherlock demanded with a whisper drenched of fervour. His coarse hand dragged to capture her chin and forced her to face the salacious spectacle reflected before them. Her breath shuddered; she saw their skin mapped onto one another, their bodies entangled and their souls unmasked.

How could something so forbidden be so beautiful?

“I dwell in the darkness, Vanessa.” Sherlock explained, his voice stroking her temple as his lips inched closer, “You must know that, you must have me as I am.”

He laved his tongue over her cheek as if he was tasting the sweetest delicacy and reached for his erection, stroking the pulsating girth between his fingers. Eyes still glued to their likeness on the glossy surface, she glanced as he pressed his pink, meaty tip between her dripping petals.

“Watch as I take something from you that can never be given back, something that will forever belong to me.”

“Sherl….”

His name died on her tongue, the moment forever lost in a loud shriek. Savagely and unceremoniously, he pried her virginal cunt open the way a predator rips at its prey’s throat. His massive shaft tore through her purity with no resistance to fight back against his brutal invasion.  

Pain rattled its way through her entire entity while the dark spectacle of the loss of her innocence played right in front of her eyes, spurring grievous tears. Lost to the bliss of her warm cavern, Sherlock chanted in loud groans, continuing to force himself all the way between her squeezing walls. Remorseless of her cries, he never stopped until every hollow inch inside her was full of his cock and his sac smacked against her stuffed opening.

“My! You feel good!” He panted with astonishment, his virility twitching within the lush sanctuary between her thighs. Noxious pride flowed in his veins at the reflection of the naked young girl, spread open with him inside her.

“Do you like having me inside you, my little harlot?”

“God!” Vanessa screamed, stunned by the sensation of him swelling at her core. His invasion seared, her legs trembled against his in a plea to be kept together. But he only stretched her wider, hooking both hands below her thighs.

“It will feel good in a little while,” he promised and slowly shifted his hips back. Inch by inch, his cock slid out of her now defiled slit, coated by blood and a sheer layer of arousal. It was something of decadent theatrics; his broad chest puffed against her spine, a blissful hum leaving his bobbing throat at the image of the crimson stain that decorated his sword.

“From this moment and beyond, this belongs to me,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck and planting wicked, butterfly kisses along the tender slope, “do you understand? Your little cunny is my property, your moans, your pleasure, all belong to me.”

Her cunt clenched around nothing as she watched his full length slipping out, tainted by broken purity, the empty void leaving pure urgency to course through her tendons. Hopeless for something she couldn’t even recognise, she whined and writhed on top of him. Her eyes levitated from their sexes to meet his icy glare.

“Sherlock, please, more! Please put yourself back inside me!!!”

“Fuck!” Sherlock rasped in awe of her wanton, his control nearly lapsed. Fingers digging into her thighs, he undulated his hips and pulled her down the length of his throbbing erection. Low melodies of pleasure rolled on his tongue as her wet cunt pressed around him again.

Gawking at the mirror, she nearly fell apart in his arms, cries of daze escaped her as Sherlock's drove back into her sleek. Every bit of his flesh unfolding hers, disappearing within her body to defy the loneliness aching in her cove until his entire shaft was lost in her depth and the tip of his cock hit something lush and tender. She could have sworn she felt him waver deep in her gut.

“Sherlock!!!” she cried, shutting her eyes at the sharp twinge that shuddered through her core.

“Don’t you dare close those eyes, dove,” he warned, and the authority in his voice left her no choice but to obey. Wickedly, his fingers slithered to the little nub of flesh above her slit and ruthlessly tugged at it to expose more of her battered sex. He continued to pound into her mercilessly, quickening the rhythm with each one of his thrusts.

“Look at you, taking me so obediently. Perhaps I was wrong about you, perhaps you are easily tamed.”

The thick bones of his hips crashed into her rump vigorously, his girth violently splitting her protesting walls. He was fast, wet, and hard inside her, his cock drilling into her over and over, every plunge stripping more layers of her soul and pushing her higher toward the heavens.

Enslaved to the beguiling aphrodisiac, she squirmed on top of him, her body beginning to push down to meet every thrust. The vision of herself being brutally taken by the large, civilised beast made the blood pool at the seams of her womanhood and tingle with frustration.

A shuddering quake began to spread within her, spiralling out in a sequence of spasms sourced at the spot where they connected. Bliss and ecstasy shattered her body and a sudden flush of pleasure exploded through her body as she came all over his cock.

Engulfed in her milking cunt, Sherlock could hardly believe what beheld his eyes. His beautiful nymph, coming undone around him, ethereal and divine. Her blissful chants a song to his ears only, she was like dryad humming a hymn to call upon a lonesome hunter.

“‘My Vanessa, I wanted you for so long.” He called, fucking her wildly through her orgasm. “Tell me you want me to come inside you,” he choked out on his grunts, her sugary walls closing around his thickness like a predatory flower, demanding to suckle his sweet elixir.

Still riding her climax, she shook her head, hesitant of speaking such profanities. But the stern glower on Sherlock’s face instantly forced her into submission.

“I want you to come … come inside me!” She panted and then screamed as another wave of intense rapture swept her away.

Her squeezing cunt forced the thick stream to vibrated through his shaft, making him drill into her with zeal. His fingers clutched her waist as he slammed her down onto his swollen cock, burying himself the deepest he could. Vanessa yipped as something hot sprouted into her, flooding her womb like a soothing kiss that slowly began trickling between their tight flesh.

Still locked in an embrace, they shivered together. Soft maple hues glimmered over their wet skin, their bodies heaving against one another while a symphony of pants and gasps filled the silence.

Sherlock’s glaciers sought to capture her reflection, a dark, brooding look on his sweat-silken face while his lips ghosted over her shoulder. There was no question in the rough expression of his face.

Nothing spoke louder than the possessiveness that pierced through the sharp reflection.

~*~

A tender stream of sunshower kissed her lids awake. The cerulean sky winked at her through the open window while her senses gingerly regained their functions after what felt like graveyard slumber. Finding herself alone, she wondered for a moment if the night before was only a fantasy; but this bed was too soft and far too large, and the sensation of shame licking between her thighs told her otherwise.

Even in his absence, Sherlock’s presence lingered. His pungent sweat layered on her skin, and from her torn seal trickled the pearly, forbidden essence of his loins. She allowed herself a moment of coy bliss, pressing her lips upon her bare shoulder to kiss the taste of him off her flesh when the thud of inching footsteps and creaking wood made her sit up with fright as if her presence was forbidden.

Huddling the blankets around her chest, she gulped as the door flung open.

Already dressed in a clean shirt, a vest of golden brown, and a long black jacket, the hulking man offered her a small wrinkle on his brow. Fine silks were folded on his forearm, and his eyes fell upon the naked beauty in his bed. A shadow of dark desire danced upon his slanted smirk as he noticed the little inkling of dry blood on the edge of the mattress.

“Slept well, my little Nessie?” He asked, passing a finger over his neatly combed locks before gesturing for her to approach him. Obedient as ever, his little servant quickly climbed out, immediately regretting her haste as a spear split through her core. With jolting legs, she swallowed her discomfort and approached him with her head lowered to the floor.

“No, we will have none of this,” Sherlock chided, his finger stalking beneath her chin to fix her stare on his. Their gazes met for a shy second and then he stepped back, unfolding the fabrics held beneath his arm.

A waterfall of black and crimson flowed down, hanging from his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes rounded with wonder; being a woman of lower status, she never owned anything as beautiful and expensive as the dress he held before her.

“Lift your arms, dove,” Sherlock commanded and she did as he bid.

The soft fabrics felt like warm liquid washing over her skin as Sherlock carefully slipped the dress over her head. His hands smoothly roamed her body, tugging at the delicate fabric to fit over her figure. The tall detective stepped to stand at her back and began working the laces of the corset embedded into the gown.

One by one, he tightened the silk binds as he pulled at the laces. Vanessa slightly hissed when her breasts squished against the generous cleavage.

“Forgive me,” Sherlock mumbled as he heard her distress, “I am not used to such… arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” she asked naively, though it quickly dawned on her that her dear master never had a wife or a mistress, which didn’t come much as a surprise after witnessing his bohemian desires the night before. And yet, no regret touched her heart as Sherlock pressed his hand over her torso and perched his chin atop her head once again.

“Look at us.” His lustrous eyes carried to the mirror, guiding hers to follow as he stroked his hand lower to flatten the folds of her dress and pushed her hair over her shoulders with the other.

“Don’t we make a pair?”

Glancing forward, Vanessa took a deep inhale. Crimson and black were unusually beautiful as they graced her figure. The rim of the cleavage was beaded with fine black jewels that gave her appearance an elegant, yet erotic flavour.

Taken by her new design, she allowed herself to be swallowed into Sherlock’s beautiful darkness.

She wouldn’t have him without it.

___________________________________

Additional notes: I don’t own Sherlock Holmes or Enola Holmes franchise. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming  @wolvesandhoundshowltogether and @sapphirescrolls for moral support. 

[potter-imagines]

Chosen Sister (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Request: I had two Ginny idolizing reader requests so this is the first one! I can't find the exact request but the other will be posted during this coming week. 

Warning: None (vv short sad part)

Word Count: 3.8k

“Give me back my girlfriend, Ginny. I heard that you’re holding her hostage.”

A loud chorus of knocks sounded out from Ginny Weasley’s dorm room. Dinner had finished an hour before and since the meal ceased, Fred had been searching the entire ground for you, his girlfriend. After about thirty minutes tracing your typical patterns and steps around Hogwarts, Fred ran into Angelina and Alicia who informed him of your whereabouts.

They happily explained to them that they saw Ginny dragging you away after dinner. The girls cooed to Fred about how adorable it was that his girlfriend hung out with his little sister, something Fred didn’t exactly view the same.

Fred Weasley checked your dorm room, the common room, the library, Hermione’s dorm, and finally Ginny’s room. As he trudged up the stone steps grounchily, his ears perked to a point at the ring of a voice that was tattooed in his heart. Your innocent, childlike giggle played like a melody in the empty stairwell.

Fred could feel the corner of his lip tugging up to a smile at the sound. That sugared chortle that he had heard millions of times before but somehow still felt his breath catch at the sound. Standing outside his little sister’s door, Fred’s annoyance was dissolving by your haromous voice echoing from the opposite side.

When Ginny failed to open her dorm up the first round of knock, Fred banged on the door again. Huffing in annoying, Ginny shot you a look, already knowing Fred was gonna scold her. She crawled off her bed and waltzed over to her door, taking her sweet time as she did. You couldn’t help the giggles that rumbled through your chest.

Swing the door open swiftly, Ginny glared at Fred with flames blazing in her eyes. If they weren’t related, he might’ve felt a hint of her wrath. But she was his little sister and not even at her angriest did Fred find her intimidating, not in the slightest.

Ginny Weasley was only thirteen yet her sass and feistiness was beyond her years. Growing up with only brothers probably played a hand. The young girl sent her brother a disgusted look then growled at him,

“I am not holding her hostage! For your information, Y/n happens to be my friend. Might sound surprising to you but she actually enjoys hanging out with me, Fred.”

Fred looked past his sister at the mention of your name. A smile lifted to his lips when he found you. You returned the gesture

“You’re right, that does sound surprising.” The snarky remark caused Ginny to furrow her face in a scowl. Lunging forward the youngest Weasley snapped for her older brother, although missed by a long shot.

“You’re infuriating, Fred!” She howled. Her face was turning red with every second that ticked by. If the situation had been different, you might’ve laughed. Getting between the Weasley siblings when they were arguing- that just wasn’t safe for anyone. Ginny’s aggravation was fuming from her pores as she sent you pleading looks to stay.

It was now that you took a look at the old wooden clock hanging on the way above her roommate's bed. The little hand was pointing to the six as the big hand was approaching eleven. The time seemed to fly by at light speed. You had promised to help Ginny hang up some lights in her room. She had wanted to decorate it just likes yours, as she practically admired anything you did. It made you feel special knowing Ginny looked up to you. You had never experienced it before so it was exciting- but also slightly pressurized- to know she was admiring you as a big sister.

Fred let out an exaggerated groan leaning against the wall next to the door.

“Can I please have my girlfriend back? You got your girl time in. Y/n promised to hangout with me tonight, so I’m rescuing her!” A cheeky wink was thrown your way as Fred walked further in the room, slowly sneaking up to you. The annoyed girl rolled her eyes then ignored her brother. She looked back at you and pursed her lips into a thin line. Ginny was too oblivious to notice his stagger but your attention remained set on him the entire time. You didn’t fight the smirk lifting to your lips as he inched closer, and closer until his feet were only steps from his sister’s back. It was then Ginny noticed the amused tint to your face but before she could bring it to light, Fred bent down in one fluid motion and gripped his hands on either side of your hips. As light as a feather he swept you up and quickly darted for the door, as to escape Ginny before she had the chance to retaliate.

“Wait- hey!” Fred slammed the large door then proceeded down the steps.

“Freddie, love, that wasn’t nice.” The giggles poured from your soul as Fred continued to carry you down the stairs, then took a sharp right, and started walking up the boy’s dormitory staircase. You rested your head against the blade of his shoulder, bobbing with every step he took. He was so handsome, even from the most unpleasant angels. His sharp features stuck out in the darkness, striking your heart. His arms cradled you while he laughed, “Oh shush, you didn’t try to stop me. Wasn’t exactly nice of you to just run off in the middle of dinner. You still have time to make it up to me, though.” The teasing arrogance didn’t go unnoticed. You laughed into the material of his sweater, clutching to his chest. The movement of his legs stopped and he softly leaned over to place you on the ground. Taking his wand out from his back pocket he unlocked his door and opened it up for you to walk in.

You stepped into the quiet room then turned to you boyfriend,

“George and Lee in?” You asked. The grin that rose to his lips was an answer enough. Fred closed the door behind him with a slam then jumped onto his bed with a flop. You watched him lay in the middle of the mattress, throwing his hands in a fold behind his head. He shrugged his shoulders and replied,

“Nope. Was there something in particular you had in mind of doing?” His mask of innocence wasn’t fooling either of you, but it was part of the fun. Keeping your eyes glued to his, you slipped the material of your robes off, leaving you in a white long sleeve button up and a small plaid skirt. You basked in the widening eyes of your boyfriend as he shifted on the comforter. His eyes raked over your body from your head down to your toes. You noticed his gaze particularly set on your exposed legs. Smirking to him you sauntered over to his bed and climbed in with him. His large hands found your bottom instantly. “I think you know, Freddie.”

Almost a week later, it happened again. Fred was scrambling around the Gryffindor common room asking every waking student if they had seen you. Most students were getting ready for dinner, some already there. George was waiting near the portrait watching curiously as his twin ran around the room from person to person. Even to George it was a bit strange no one had seen you, although as the hours dragged on he took into account the absence of his little sister also. George sighed to himself then kicked his leg into the wall, leaning back against the brick waiting patiently for Fred.

On the opposite side of the large room, the other half of the Weasley twins was talking to Lee Jordan, seeing if he had any valuable information. Lee, just like everyone else he asked, had no clue where you were. Right as his conversation with Lee was dwindling, the sigh of a curly haired girl caught Fred’s eyes and he abruptly excused himself from Lee and ran over.

As Fred reached Hermione, he gave her shoulder a line of taps,

“Hermione! Hey! Do you know where Y/n is? George said he saw you two in the courtyard this morning but I haven’t seen her all day.” Fred questioned the bright witch in a pleasing tone. She swiveled around and tilted her head to the side causing her frizzy hair to bounce like springs. Eyebrows knitted together, her lips scrunched to the side. Deep in thought she hummed to herself then answered,

“No I don’t at the moment, Fred, I’m sorry. I spent the morning with her and Ginny but I haven’t seen either of them since we left the library around lunch. That was hours ago, though. Maybe try checking Ginny’s room?” Hermione offered.

You had been studying most of the morning in the courtyard then in the library. Ginny and Hermione joined you, despite all three of you being in different years. Not that it came as much of a surprise, but Hermione helped you with your work without missing a beat. Where you were stuck for minutes, she had finished four questions ago. She was a brilliant friend to have, schoolwise and personally. You might be older than the young witch but Hermione’s advice was like no others so you loved having her around.

Fred shook his head and mumbled a ‘no’.

“That was the first place I looked. Don’t know where she is either. Did I do something? Y/n’s not upset with me is she?” The fear and worry in his voice soaked the air and Hermione gave him a gaze of bewilderment.

“What? She didn’t say anything to me about being mad at you and I’m sure she would’ve if she were. She seemed perfectly fine so I don’t think it’s that. Ginny was the one who seemed in a mood if anything.” She stated firmly. As close as the two of you were, you would have told Hermione if Fred angered you. You shared everything with her.

The towering boy nodded, eyes scanning the space behind Hermione. He was running out of places to check and people to ask. Hermione was his best bet next to Ginny and no one knew where Ginny was either which, for anyone capable of putting 2 and 2 together meant you and Ginny were more likely than not together somewhere.

“Thanks, Hermione. Let me know if you see either of them, please.” Hermione nodded and smiled kindly to Fred, then walked off to join Harry and Ron. Fred took off towards the portrait, yelling to George that he would be back shortly.

Leaving the common room Fred shut the painting behind him and made his way to the moving staircase. While standing on the middle step, he tried to think if he was a girl, where would he go? The bathroom? No, not for that long. A swim in the lake? Well, it was a few weeks out from winter so that was unlikely. Fred huffed as he hopped off the stairs on the fourth floor and walked towards the library. Passing by he noticed a group of Hufflepuff boys sitting around a table and Professor Pince shushing them furiously. He kept on past the library and made his way down a mostly empty corridor.

The clock was nearing five in the afternoon and it was definitely out of the ordinary for the two of you to go this long in one day without even passing by one another. Maybe you were in the common room. Just with his luck you would show up right when he left. As the thought seemed to be a possibility, the sudden sound of your familiar light, delicate voice, hit his ears. Halting completely, Fred peeked his head towards the staircase on his left where the noise came from.

“Y/n?” The inquiry came quietly. Fred half wondered if he had imagined it. No reply came to his question, but he did hear someone speaking again, a new voice he recognized as his little sister’s. Moving closer to the open, cobble stairwell, Fred suddenly stopped when he heard the shaky voice of his little sister and the sound of tears splashing against the hard ground.

“He doesn’t even notice me, Y/n! I’m practically invisible in his eyes… I hate it.” Ginny’s somber cries became louder as Fred stood just on the other side of the arch in the wall. He caught a small glimpse of the scene around the wall. On the bottom step, you and Ginny were sitting next to each other. Her head leaned on your shoulder as she sobbed sadly. It was a new sight- Fred was pretty sure he hadn’t seen Ginny cry since she was in diapers. Part of him wanted to beat the daylights out of whoever hurt his little sister, but he knew it would only cause more chaos for Ginny if he injected himself now. Fred was brought back to reality when your comforting tone reassured Ginny.

“Oh Ginny, don’t say that. He’s just stupid- boys are like that. I honestly don’t think he realizes what he’s doing.” Fred wondered who you were talking about. Did Ginny fancy someone? The sniffles of his sister shook the air. Her face left your shoulder as she buried it into the sleeves of her jacket. The material soaked up her salty teardrops and she forced herself to take some deep breaths in order to calm down. Just as her body stopped quivering, the thought entered her mind again and she remarked,

“He’s never gonna-”

Fred looked on in surprise as you leaned forward and pulled Ginny in for a tight hug. Your hand rubbed along her back, soothing the young girl. She rubbed her eyes constantly, the redness only worsening. Pulling away, you rubbed the drops away from under Ginny’s eyes and gave her a small smile,

“No, he will. I just think he’s got all this stuff with ‘he-who-must-not-be-named’ on his mind… but even if he doesn’t, then he’s not the one. You’re an amazing person, Ginny. Any guy would be lucky to have you but you’re too young to be heartbroken over a little boy. I don’t want you wasting your time being sad about boys when you should be having fun with me and your friends!”

“You really mean that, Y/n?” Her eyes lit in hopefulness. Ginny had quickly become a little sister of sorts to you. Seeing her upset, hurt, mad, anything, you felt it too. Although Ginny was young, only thirteen. You didn’t want her ruining herself chasing after a boy who wasn’t able to give her the time and attention she deserved. Being friends with Harry, your judgement told you that the poor boy most likely didn’t even catch onto the fact Ginny fancied him.

Chosen one? Yes. Oblivious one? Also yes.

On the other side of the wall, Fred’s heart was basically goop from the exchange. He messed with his sister, sure, but she was still his baby sister and it meant the world to him to see you, his girlfriend, so kind, and sweet to Ginny.

“I would never lie to you, Ginny.” You promised her.

“I should go wash up before dinner, I’m sure I look a mess! I’ll see you then, okay? And… thank you, Y/n. It means a lot to have you around and I don’t know, it’s cool to have you as a friend.” She reached forward and gave you one last hug. You grinned at her and said,

“Of course, Ginny. It’s cool to have you as a friend as well.”

Fred smiled to himself. He never realized just how much his sister looked up to you and it made him feel prouder than ever to call you his.

Not long later, Ginny rushed off down the staircase heading back for her dorm room. It had been hours since she’d return so it didn’t seem like the best choice to go missing for hours then show up for dinner with a blotchy face from crying. She wasn’t up for the questions and prying. You waved goodbye to her then sat for a few moments by yourself in silence. Well, at least you had assumed you were alone.

Right as your body began sinking in relaxation into the step, an entering pair of footsteps caused your eyes to snap open. Emerging from the open hallway outside the stairwell was a particular adorning red head you had grown to love so much. Fred stepped in through the arch and grinned at you. You were surprised by his presence, you had yet to see him all day, having spent most of it comforting Ginny, so you were taken aback that he was able to find you.

“Freddie! How did you find me?” You jumped up with a grin and threw your arms around Fred’s neck. His knees pulled him down from the force and his hands wrapped around your waist, accepting the embrace fully. Chuckling loudly Fred joked,

“Ah, so you were hiding from me!”

You sent him a narrowed look and pointed towards the direction where Ginny had retreated.

“No, no, I wasn’t hiding. Your sister needed me so I decided to be with her. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-” Your apology was cut short by the feeling of Fred’s plump lips kissing yours. He kept the kiss short and sweet, just wanting to taste your lips. He went almost the whole day not seeing you so he wasn’t able to resist for much longer. You kissed him back, a bit more forcefully than Fred. His lips danced against yours, the action of snogging being second nature among you two. Fred pulled away slowly, his lips staying close to yours. Your foreheads were leaning against each other, smiles plastered on both your lips.

“That was maybe the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. You were so nice to Ginny, love. You didn’t need to do that.” He insisted in a whisper tone. Moving your forehead against his you explained,

“I wanted to, she’s my friend. I really care about her and… I don’t know, I’ve never had someone who looks up to me so, it’s kinda fun to know someone thinks I’m admirable.”

Glancing up, Fred’s eyes were already locked on yours. The warmth and homeiness of his honey pooled eyes pulled you in. Brown eyes never looked so perfect until you met Fred. Stepping up on your tiptoes, your hand secured itself along Fred’s jaw as you tugged him towards you. He parted his lips as you planted another kiss to his mouth. It was more of a peck, a tinny smooch leaving you to separate quickly. Leaning back into Fred’s arms, you basked in his hold. Never once did you ever feel exposed to danger when Fred had his arms clasped around you. It was impossible.

“That’s why I love you, you’re just perfect in every way. Everyday you find new ways to make me fall in love with you all over again...you’re too sweet, darling. Thank you for looking out for Ginny. It means a lot to me. Even if it means I have to share my time with you, which is just criminal, it does mean a lot.” His lips wasted no time scattering a mess of small, wet kisses along your face. No inch was left unkissed. You giggled wildly as he continued for a few moments. Planting one last kiss to your pursed lips, Fred stopped his attack and leaned back to smirk at you. Your laughter died out as you began to calm yourself. Smiling over to Fred, you reached for his hand and squeezed it in reassurance. “Of course, Freddie. I love you, babe.”

Lifting his hand, he rested his cheek on the skin of your hand. His face turned so he could press a faint peck to your hand, then he glanced up at you through his lashes.

“I love you too, darling. How bout we make up for all that lost time, hm?” That devilish, mischievous smirk you saw far too often had returned. Playing dumb you just chuckled,

“I was thinking the exact same thing, I was wanting some dinner too!”

“You know that wasn’t what-” You interrupted him, placing your pointer finger in the center of his lips creating a ‘shush’ gesture. He stared at you waiting for the next move. It was now you who held the bold smirk. You grasped Fred’s hand and pulled him towards the stairs so you could get to the Great Hall. His face fell in disappointment, clearly expecting a different turn of events. You didn’t leave him down for long when you batted your long lashes up at Fred and stated,

“Dinner first, then dessert after, okay?” It was the way you said it rather than the words themselves that did him in. That playful gleam that sparked in your eyes, he loved it.

Fred immediately felt his clothes, more specifically his trousers, turn tight at your words alone. He side eyed you as you skipped down the steps, unsure if you were the one teasing him now, or if you were being truthful. Narrowing his peer in seriousness, Fred tried to decipher the sickly sweet smirk on your lips. It wasn’t until you turned the tables, lifting his hand up to kiss the back of it, that he realized you weren’t joking. Eagerness took over as Fred locked his hand even more securely around yours and sped up his pace to the Great Hall. “Anything you say, love.”

He practically chased you the whole way to the dinning hall, your loud laughter filling the silence in the air. Your friends chuckled when they saw you two running in. You guys never seemed happier and it made all they ecstatic to see their friends finding love with each other. George waved the two of you over having saved a spot next to him for both of you. Fred escorted you to the opening, his hand never leaving yours even when you sat. For the rest of the meal, Fred’s hand rotated between your hand and your thigh, but never left your skin. And when Ginny sat down and smiled over at you, engaging you in conversation, Fred just squeezed your hand with a small grin, and pretended not to listen in. From then on, Fred only interrupted your hangout sessions to join in, and surprisingly, Fred Weasley was a great gossiper.

[onemilvolts-main]

Rose Tinted - Monoma Neito

Summary: Your best friend has a confession to make.

WC: 980

a/n: wowee it's the first thing i've written and shared with the public hopefully this isn't too awful

"So? How's the party so far?"

The soft, low voice of Monoma Neito was laced with a facetious tone, one which was backed up by the slightest curve of his lips. The moonlight reflected off of his features, shining on his fair skin and especially accentuating his gorgeous eyes. The two of you had broke away from the manor, now headed for the rose garden directly behind it. It was more like a maze, really; large plants obscuring the view on either side, a long, wide path leading to the marble fountain at the center.

You turned to Neito, admiring his sharp jawline, his thin lips, his little pointed nose. Maybe it was the shine of the moon and stars thinking for you, perhaps the roses surrounding you, but the blond's side profile was...irritatingly handsome.

"Well," you began, trying to find a way to not unintentionally insult your friend. "It's...interesting. I appreciate you bringing me along and all, but everyone comes across as..."

"Blue-blooded assholes? Yeah, I'm aware. Sorry, it's just the company my family keeps—birds of a feather and all," Neito intervened, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. "Hopefully I'm not THAT posh."

"Well, I don't think you are," Your reassurance lit the smile on his face up even brighter, so much so that you swore it could combat the shine of the moon. A spell of silence fell over you two, letting the sounds of the scene flow into the foreground. Between the distant flow of the water fountain, the crickets chirping, and shared footsteps of yourself and Neito, the silence was easily drowned out.

"Hard to believe that we're about to graduate," you started up again, glancing upwards at the copycat. It really was an odd realization; it felt as if it was just yesterday that you were chasing him down, screaming demands that he stop bothering your classmates. "I can't believe we've known eachother for two years."

"I can't believe you've put up with me for two years," Neito corrected, earning a laugh from you. It was funny to look back on, but you hated the man for what felt like the longest time. Not that it was unwarranted, he was the absolute worst in year one! There was never a time where he wasn't trying to antagonize you or your friends, without an ounce of shame in him!

Absentmindedly, his hand moved to yours, interlocking your fingers with his own. His hand was warm, and a lot bigger than yours...the contact frazzled you, yet warmed your heart at the same time. It took you by surprise, Neito wasn't ever the type to initiate contact like this.

It wasn't long before the two of you reached the fountain. You opened your mouth, but nothing came out—the structure was magnificent in every sense of the word, adorned with patterns, engraved lettering, and sculptures of angels placed at each corner.

"Pretty neat, don't you think?" The hero-to-be mused, cueing you to nod in response. With his hand still in yours, Neito led you aside to the bench to the fountain's side.

"Y/n?" Your name calling from his pale lips drew your eyes to his, quizically glancing at him. For some reason, you were hanging on his every word, every little movement as you two sat side-by-side on the bench. "Yeah, Neito?"

"I...have something to tell you. I don't see a more fitting scene than right here, tonight, on such a beautiful evening." You quirked a brow at his vague words, suddenly feeling a lot more anxious with the situation, though you couldn't determine why.

His cerulean orbs panned down, then back at yours. A chuckle escaped his lips, silent—something more like a tense breath. "Y/n," Neito repeated your name. He licked his lips over a few times, not acknowledging a hitch in his breath.

"The last two years that you've been in my life have been beyond amazing. Even after how I treated you and your friends for the longest time, it didn't stop you. It didn't turn you away from me. Neither did my 'justification', hiding behind my own insecurities to be a thorn in the side of others. Through all of that, you've never once left my side. There isn't any easy way to say this, Y/n, but..."

He took a pause. A pause that felt as if it took an eternity, so long that you found yourself holding your breath in nervous anticipation.

"I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. You make me feel like I've never felt in my life. Every time I speak to you, I feel this fluttering in my chest that I never want to end. I know that this is sudden, and I'm—"

"Neito." You interrupted, trying to persevere through the prominent blush on your face and butterflies in your stomach. "I love you too," you hastily responded, your confession inadvertently coming as a hushed whisper.

The blond's face lit up a new shade of pink, one you could barely make out due to the shine of the moon. His mouth curved into a smile, as he pulled you in before you had time to react. His lips were on yours, hand gripped tight around yours. The perfect first kiss, you decided. Illuminated by the moon, surrounded by roses and highlighted by the chorus of the fountain's flowing water.

You never wanted it to end, but all good things had to. Neito broke from you, a mere strand of saliva connecting your lips and his. He combed a hand through his hair, eyes lidded, yet bursting with disbelief and joy.

You tilted your head into him, now rested on his shoulder as you two guided your attention to the night sky.

"I love you, Y/n." ... "Now, what do you say we ditch this stuffy party?"

[doubledgesword-2]

Hello lovely! How pe you’re having a nice weekend!💕

I saw that your requests are open and I was wondering if I could request a head cannon or Drabble of adult trip with a blind darling??

Hope you have a nice day!💕✨

Aww yeeesh! I did have a lovely day and a nice weekend, thank you so much! Here's your nice cup of Rose tea hon, enjoy it!

WARNING TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF AND A LIL BIT OF OOC! ENJOY!

Chrollo

Whether you were born like this or you had an accident that took your sight, it doesn't matter; Chrollo would do everything for you.

And when I say everything, I mean every little thing, from guiding you around the room to bathing you or showering with you to help. 

"Chrollo, I can do it; you don't have to worry" you chuckle nervously as his hand gently scrub your arm; you feel his fingers gently rub the soap on your shoulder, and you're hoping he can't see you blush. 

"Hush, dear, and let me love you" he kisses your shoulder, and you shudder at the feeling of his warm lips against your skin. 

When you casually ask how the clouds look like or what color is the ocean, or what color are the trees this time of the year, his eyes tear up a bit. He looks at you with a drunk love look and a warm smile.

 You're so perfect for him, because him being a romantic, this is the perfect time to be poetic. 

He will find an object that's very soft and very fluffy in texture; his hand will take yours and slowly drag it through the material so you can feel every single fiber of it. 

"That's how clouds are like, love. This time of year, the trees are red, and that's like cinnamon, and the ocean is blue, and aqua and those are like salty blueberries." 

"Ewww!" You laughed, and he chuckled, still holding your hand in his. This moment was a real treasure for him.  

"May I see how You look like?" He immediately tears up. This boi is low key the most sentimental in situations like these ones. He can't help but be overwhelmed. Sure he's a thief, but he's a humble one, albeit unfair on occasions but never with you. 

Chrollo takes your hands and places them on his cheek. Your fingers feel so soft on his skin, almost like you're afraid to damage him. They glide over his nose, feeling how it arches, over his eyebrows and his eyelids. 

Then they pass over the cross on his forehead into his hair, caressing it until your arms are looped around his neck and you hug him close, your ear on his chest listening to his racing heartbeat. 

"You have a strong heart" You can't see how his cheeks are tinted pink or how his breathing has picked up because, dammit, you're amazing at getting these kinds of reactions out of him. 

He will read to you, even though you have learned Braille. He wants you to be drunk on his voice and the passionate way he makes the story's impressions. 

No one, and I mean no one, is allowed to begin a demeaning sentence towards you or some comment about your blindness that makes you uncomfortable. He will shut them up with one look and the flare of his aura.  

When you guys go out, he insists on guiding you even though sometimes you have held him back before a car could run him over because he was too focused on taking care of you. He didn't see the vehicle coming. Ironic. 

"That was a close one, don't you think?" He kissed the crown of your head, holding you close as the two of you kept walking to your destination. "Now, do you believe I can take care of myself?"

"We'll see," he chuckles. 

Illumi 

Your encounter with Illumi is always a tale to tell. 

You see, you were at a coffee shop, drinking your favorite drink and eating a nice treat/pastry when he passed you by dropping one of his pins in the process. He had been so tired and beat that he didn't even notice. First one right there. 

"Excuse me, sir," You bend over and felt for the big round top of the pin until your fingers grasped it and held it tight, minding the other pointy side. "You dropped this" Illumi doesn't say anything in acknowledgment. He simply extends his hand to you. 

But you are not giving him the pin, and this annoys him so much. Then his eyes look up to yours. They are blueish but glazed over and almost white. You're blind. Illumi reaches for your hand, startling you for a quick second, but he picks the pin and lets go. 

"Is this seat taken?" He asks suddenly, and you smile towards his voice.

"Go right ahead." 

That day Illumi was so intrigued by you that he couldn't help but stalk you a bit, you know, for research purposes in case he ever finds an opponent like you. 

But it turns into so much more.

 He meets you every day he can, no matter where he goes with you. He makes no effort to help you, though, and don't expect him to do so. He appreciates you too much, and in his mind, you're like a wild cardinal, and if he were to help you, it's like putting you in a cage. Once he lets you free again, you won't know how to survive on your own. 

He wants you free. He loves you free. 

But that doesn't mean he won't be there for you or step in when circumstances are far too grave for you to handle. 

"Llumi, how does the sky look today?" 

"Gray. It's going to rain" his response makes you chuckle; you have never seen gray, but his honesty makes you smile. You outgrew your frustrations about this situation a long time ago. 

"Can we stay to feel the rain? I want to smell the petrichor once it's over" Illumi looks at you with the same expression he gives everyone. He knows you might catch a cold standing in the rain; he doesn't understand why all you said would be relevant. But then he reminds himself, he has taken for granted all of these things because he can see them. 

"Only a couple of minutes once its starts. If it gets bad, we'll go inside. You can smell the petrichor afterward" he holds your hand, and you two sit there on the park bench. 

Illumi doesn't get cuddly or lovey-dovey with you. Still, he will allow himself moments where he can't help but admire you and be grateful for having you in his life. He will never say that. Ever. But he'll think it.

One time he entered your apartment and found you sitting on the rug in the living room, reading Braile. 

"Illumi is so nice to hear you today. How was your day?" He's always impressed by your ability to sense him. When he asked once how you could recognize him if he was so quiet, you said you could feel his presence in the room since it was calming to you even when he tried to conceal himself. This melted his heart. 

"What are you reading" He came to sit on the sofa, his legs brushing your arms like a loving gesture. Your hand grabbed his leg, squeezing him in recognition, and then went back to the book. 

"Would you like me to read it to you?"

"Yes," It was a lovely evening that day. 

Just like Chrollo, he's very protective of you since his line work makes him kind of famous, some people are bound to have seen you and try to get to you to get to him, and this is where Illumi draws the line. 

Rest assured, no one will touch a single hair on your head if he has his way. The beginning of his bloodlust alone is enough to make everyone panic and turn away.

"Illumi, hon is alright, I'm here, I'm right here. Look at me" you would open the curtain of his luscious hair to hold his face and make him look at you. "I'm fine, see?" 

"They are not worth it," he says after holding you close to him. He'll kill them later. 

Hisoka 

This little shit will always be a little shit, in this case, a loving and understanding one, but still, the point remains. 

You bumped into him on the streets, and the minute it happened, it annoyed him so much. He was in the process of turning and giving you your dues when he noticed you had actually stopped and been grabbing his wrist. 

"I apologize, I'm so sorry" you're not looking at him, and that annoys him even further. 

That's until he notices your vacant look and your body language. You may not be looking at him, but your whole body is poised to listen. Listen to him. 

"Are you blind?" He blurts out but not really; his smirk says it was intentional.

"All my life, sir," you chuckle, letting his wrist go and leaning a bit on your white cane. 

This makes him giggle, and he invites you for a coffee if you're available.

The rest after that marks your relationship. 

Hisoka behaves like a child whenever he's around you. He hides his presence to try and scare you, but you can always sense him. You can even imagine him pouting as you find him and poke him with your cane. 

"Not fair, little fruit." 

"You smell like bubble gum, hon," you chuckle, bringing him down to kiss his cheek. 

He holds you close and loves when you let yourself go and depend on him a little.

 Lke him cooking for you, doing some chores around the house (He doesn't have to, and you tell him that, but he just says you'll have to reward him later), and the two of you baking together—with him covering you in flour as much as he can without you noticing.

"Soka, I know my cheeks and forehead are white; you are a terrible boyfriend, love."

"Mmmmm, so mean, (Y/N)-chan" He kissed you as he puts more flour on your nose. 

Hisoka knows he has to leave for extended periods since he can't stay put in one place plus his job. But will always call you and answer your phone calls no matter if he's fighting with someone at the moment.

 "My precious darling, I *grunts* I'm in the middle of breaking someone's arm at the moment *huffs* can I call you later, love?" You cringe at the sound of the bone-breaking over the phone but chuckle slightly at his antics.

"Yes, you can, Be safe" oh, oh, oh he loves your concern for him. It just makes him moan obscenely in the middle of the fight, making his opponent disgruntled and allowing him to finish them off.

"On second thought, dear, we can talk right now. I'm currently free." 

He will bring you stuff from his travels and jobs, all with different textures and pleasant smells so you can experience them. 

Now this, this is the moment of truth. While you're distracted touching everything he brought, he takes away his texture surprise. Suddenly he lifts your hand to touch his hair, then his face and arms. 

"How does this one feels, mmm?" He hides the fact that he's nervous by being playful, but you can feel him being stiff. 

"It feels soft," then your fingers gingerly brush a big scar over his chest "it feels like no matter what, I love you. Like you can trust me with each one of these" 

He won't admit it, but it's nice that you can't tease him for his blushing cheeks and aghast expression. But he chuckles to alleviate the lump in his throat as he takes your hands in his and pulls you in for a hug. 

When the two of you go out, he's always holding your hand, or you're holding his arm. He has convinced you to not use your white cane while walking with him. He'll be your eyes. 

The moment someone bumps into you…

"Hey, watch where you're going, woman!" 

"Oh, so, so sorry, sir," you apologize, and Hisoka is smiling at the man. 

"Yeah, you better be" 

"Little fruit, do you want to know how fluttering butterflies feel?" As he says so, your face is tickled by a lot of fluttering little wings, and the experience mutes the man's screaming as he Hisoka gently drags you away. 

[velvetcloxds]

PLEASE, CALL ME REMUS| R.L.

Pairing: Remus x fem!Reader, Remus x Student,  Teen Wolf x Hogwarts

Word count: 2466 words

Warning: student teacher relationship sort of (reader is of age, Remus is leaving Hogwarts)

Summary: When news gets out of Remus leaving Hogwarts, the reader pays him a visit in his office before he goes, revealing that she has feelings for him and asking if he feels the same.

I steal a quick glance to the other side of the hall, seeing Harry standing up slowly, cursing under his breath as he looks at me. I smile at him, mouthing an apology before turning to the already open classroom door, slipping passed the chairs and drifting up the stairs where I release a soft breath when looking up to see him packing his office into boxes.

"Professor?" I question almost inaudible, the determination I had to come here slipping away into nerves from the pure idea of his presence. He halts his actions for a sweet second, the softest whisper of a smile tugging at his lips when he notices me.

"Y/n..." He whispers, shaking his head lightly before looking up at me. "I expected you to come see me eventually." I smile, placing my hand on the doorframe as I lean into it.

"I accidently pushed Harry Potter down in order to beat him here, " He smiles, eyes meeting mine as my lips mimic his. "If he does end up saving the world, he may just let me burn." I add, with a shrug which earns a soft laugh from him as he pulls his hair from his face, my heart sinking at the clear view of his new scars.

"Come in," He tells me, gesturing towards the door. "Close it behind you." He adds and I blush lightly as I step into his office, hands lingering on the doorknob.

"You're leaving." I say, still facing the door as I take advantage of the opportunity to get a grip on myself. He breathes out softly.

"I am," He replies, faltering as I turn around to face him. "It's not a decision that I took lightly in making," He offers as a sense of reasoning and I smile sadly, eyes avoiding his as I rake them over the piles of books on his desk. "Believe me, dear Y/n, if there was another option, I would take it gladly." He adds, leaning back against his bookshelf, hands moving to his pockets.

"I know," I say, taking a small step forward towards his desk, mindlessly taking a book into my hands, skimming over the title as I feel his eyes on me. "I'll miss you," I say and move my fingers over the golden writing. "It was rather comforting having someone around just like me." He nods.

"Indeed," He takes a step forward as well, gently taking the book from my hands. "Though I'd be honest, Y/n, you are the furthest from being like me than anyone I'd yet to meet," He raises a brow when I meet his gaze. "You are far too good and far too kind to be identifying with the remainder of the lycanthrope species." I smile, wanting to drop my hand until he carefully takes it into his.

"I have to ask," I begin, attention jumping to the soft motion of his thumb moving against mine. "The feelings that I have for you, Professor," He sighs deeply as the word leaves my lips and I smile in reply. "Were they misplaced?" I question and I feel my cheeks tinting rose as I await his response.

"Never," He whispers almost urgently, eyes filling with guilt as he takes yet another step towards me. "Respectfully, miss Y/n, I'd have to confess that there was not a second of the day which you were not dwelling in my thoughts." He smiles, a blush of his own meeting his cheeks. I nod, tightening my fingers around his to savor his touch.

"Respectfully, Professor Lupin, I'd have to confess the very same," We smile, a second of silence as I desperately take his features and presence in for one last time and I hope his silence is due to him doing the same, because I put up no effort to hide my eyes traveling from feature to feature, pausing for a second as if I am making a mental note of all my favorite parts. "Will I ever see you again?" I question carefully, knowing the answer already, but hoping for the opposite anyway.

"I am not sure we will." He answers carefully, eyes falling, and shoulders slumping, and I prepare to remove my hand from his. I nod, ripping my eyes away from him when I hear footsteps stilling in front of the door.

"Bloody seventh years doing as they please. I ought to report her to Dumbledore, is what I should do." Harry's voice drifts into the silent office and I fill with disappointment knowing our time is up.

Professor Lupin smiles sadly, lifting my hand to his lips where he places a whisper of a kiss against my knuckles, his breath tickling my skin as he pulls away.

"I will miss you, Y/n," He tells me softly, knowing that Harry may hear from outside the door. "It was an absolute pleasure getting to know you." I release a shaky breath, eyes burning slightly as I bite back tears.

"Will you be okay?" I ask, allowing myself to steal a glance at his scars. "Will you be safe on your own?" I add and his entire face smiles as he looks at me.

"I have been struggling with my disease for longer than I can remember," He tells me. "I have been worse, and I'll be worse still, but me and my troubles are not your burden. I never hoped to be."

"You weren't," I say too quickly and he nods, releasing my hand to fall to my side. "If you ever find yourselves in the chaotic town of Beacon Hills, promise me you'll come see me." I plea, paying no mind to the desperation slipping from my tongue.

"I promise." He tells me as a knock sounds at the door.

"Professor?" Harry asks loudly. "Are you still in there?" I shake my head as I step away.

"Goodbye, Professor Lupin." I say and he shakes his head with a sad smile.

"Remus," He says and places the book from earlier down onto the table. "Please, call me Remus." He says and I nod.

"Goodbye Remus." I say and turn away, no longer able to control the urge to cry. I open the door quickly, Harry stepping aside when he sees me. Despite myself, I look back at Professor Lupin one more time, seeing him inch closer when he sees my tears and I shake my head, ignoring Harry's confusion as I walk away from the office and the man who somehow captured my heart, before I could break down completely.

The rest of the year passed in a blur. I remained as far from the chaos and trouble as I could, passing Professor Lupin's class a few times a day and watching as someone new interacted inside it. I could never quite explain what I felt for him. I would have called it a simple crush at first, but then again crushes very rarely share that feeling. I would have jotted in down as a case of lust, me being lonely and him being both kind and autoreactive. But all and all I decided to leave my feelings unclarified. I cared quite a lot for Remus Lupin, and I believe he cared for me as well. In different circumstances we may have had a chance for more, but I made morbid peace with the horrible fate that Hogwarts sealed for us.

"I think you're being dramatic." Stiles tells me, reaching over me to grab a fry from the plate.

"I'm not," I say taking a sip from my milkshake. "I have not known a single moment of peace since Derek Hale came into my life." I explain loudly, Derek laughing lightly from the other side of the booth and Scott simply nods. Lydia shakes her head at Stiles who steals a sip of her soda float.

"To be fair, you're still a witch, it's not like you'd be completely trouble free without Derek as your alpha." Malia says and she frowns when Scott wipes a napkin over her lip to remove some ketchup.

"Fair point," I say and lean forward. "However, I think my time at Hogwarts would've been much more enjoyable had I not been forced to tie myself up with chains in the shrieking shack every full moon." I add with a smile, laughs and nods filling the table and I sit back against the booth. Watching as they change the topic, laughing and smiling still.

But I cannot help but feel silly, the second I said it, Remus slipped into my mind. The memory of us running into each other on the first full moon he was at Hogwarts, him helping me with my chains before undergoing his own change, a protection spell keeping me hidden from his rage. I remember cleaning his wounds for the first time, checking for deep cuts and breaks. I remember the utter confusion on his face when I took some of his pain. I remember the small smile he gave me when I entered his class the next day to give him a message from Professor Snape. I remember every single smile he ever gave me; they were both rare and abundant, the real task was deciphering which were real and which were for show. I remember realizing that most of the real ones were aimed at me.

"So, I have a Hogwarts question." Stiles announces, his arm hitting mine as he turns towards me. I roll my eyes as I look up from the fries I was loosely staring at.

"You always do." I say and everyone laughs. Stiles scrunches his nose at me before leaning forward.

"How come you remained a witch after Derek bit you?" He says and Lydia nods.

"I don't know," I say with a shrug, knowing how often the question had bothered me in the past as well. "I had a friend who tried to explain it to me," I say, hoping that the table full of werewolves do not pick up on the change in my chemo signals. "He said that werewolves were basically like hybrids, half human and half wolf and seeing as I'm a witch, I'm simply half witch and half wolf."

"So, there are werewolves at Hogwarts too?" Malia asks and I nod.

"They're different though." I say and everyone looks at me for an explanation. "They can't control it like we do." I explain and fiddle with my fingers. "It's like the werewolf in them is a whole different soul without any empathy, without any concept of decency." I explain further, Stiles mocking a shiver next to me.

"It sounds awful." Lydia says and I nod, not meeting her gaze.

"It is." I say softly, Remus filling my mind again.

"Seems like you learnt a lot from your friend though." Scott notes and I nod with a smile.

"He was quite the teacher." I say and they smile in return. Derek glances at his watch and then frowns.

"It's late," He announces and takes the last sip of his soda. "We should get going, the rest of you bunch are graduating tomorrow." He explains and everyone agrees, slipping their cash onto the table as we all cover the cost and the tip.

"Are you coming?" Lydia asks and I shake my head.

"I'm going to grab another milkshake," I say and she raises a brow. "I'm good Lyds, I'll see you guys tomorrow," I smile. "Big day." I add and she nods.

"I'll be the one with the gown and the cap." She notes, leaning down to give me a quick hug before rushing to the exit where Stiles is holding the door open for her. I look out the window as I watch them all get into their cars, riding off a few minutes later into different directions. I let out a sigh.

I hate being alone, when I'm alone I always end up thinking of him.

"Butterbeer." The waiter says as he places the pitcher down in front of me. I frown.

"I'm sorry what?" I ask, looking between him and the table. There are only a few places on earth that serve butterbeer and Beacon Hills diner is not one of them.

"Butterbeer," The waiter repeats. "A guy brought it to the kitchen, said it's a inside joke or something." He explains and I sit up straight.

"What guy?" I ask as I look around the diner, the waiter joining me in the search.

"Man, he was here a second ago." He explains as my eyes catch the back of someone's head just as the diner door closes. It could not be. It could not possibly be.

"Excuse me." I say in a rush as I run to the exit, slipping my change into my pocket as I do.

The cold hits me like a wave of needles as I step into the street, the few cars scattered around me, belonging to regulars and workers and I let out a deflated sigh.

"I'm right here, miss Y/n," His voice informs me, and a shiver slowly vibrates through my entire body as I turn around to see him. His eyes almost twinkling in the shadow of the streetlight as he smiles at me from where he leans against my car. His smile grows as I stare at him blankly, my mind barely comprehending the fact that he is here, let alone here for me. He walks towards me carefully, as if he is scared to spook me. "I'm right here." He repeats, softer this time as he stills in front of me.

"Professor..." I whisper, more to myself than him as I rake my eyes over every feature of his face, checking my mental notes with the ones I made months ago when he left. He nods, gently slipping his hand into mine, lifting it to his lips like how he did in his office that day.

"Please..." He begins, lips brushing over the skin of my knuckles. "Call me Remus," I smile, a blush creeping onto my cheeks as I senselessly move towards him, brining my hand over his scarred cheek as I almost desperately connect my lips with his own. The action prompts the most intoxicating smile from him before he returns the gesture, hands respectfully moving to my waist before he nimbly pulls away. He shakes his head as we remain close, eyes copying the actions of my own a few minutes ago. "You are remarkable, Y/n." He tells me breathless, and I smile, moving my hands to the collar of his coat.

"So are you, Remus." I say and his eyes darken the slightest bit as his name slips from my lips.

"Bloody hell." He whispers, nodding to himself and looking to the side before gently forcing me into his embrace, my face nestling into his chest as his cologne consumes me.

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist 

[swtki]

My Game - Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Teachers Pet

SUMMARY: After Y/Ns little test, she takes Dr. Reid up on his offer. She also takes him back to the apartment. 

WARNINGS: 18+ CONTENT, SMUT, FEM READER, PROFFESOR-STUDENT, TEACHER REID, ORAL (FEMALE RECIEVING), PENATRATIVE SEX, SEMI DOM-SUB

It had been three days since Dr. Reid emailed me. I hadn’t texted him yet, too afraid of not knowing what to say. When I pulled that little stunt at his desk, I expected nothing to come of it. Just seeing his cute and pink face was enough of a reward. But it was obvious to me in the days following, he wanted to cross his finish line.

My phone sat comfortably in my hands, the series of numbers lining the top of my screen. I had not an inkling of an idea of what I would say. Should I go casual? Professional? Sexy? I mean, did anyone ever know how to aproach their crush?

Y: It’s Y/N, sorry I took so long. I’ve been kinda busy.

S: No worries, I was beginning to think I had read the room incorrectly. What are your plans for Saturday night? Theres a great Italian restaurant next to where I’m staying in DC.

Y: That sounds wonderful, actually. I’ll meet you there at 7?

S: Perfect.

I reluctantly pulled my figure from the sofa, and soon eagerly jumping into the shower. When the water hit my face the entire day melted away, and left only the anticipation of that night. I felt so special, I mean I was living my most vivid fantasies and not every woman gets to do it with a genius professor.

With my makeup carefully applied, and my dress matching my shoes, I started down the stairs. As my heels made a clicking noise, I started to feel a familiar flutter in my stomach. I was nervous; First date nervous. Though I had met him many times, and most recently met his body with mine, the event of a first date was a pâté of emotions.

The door of the restaurant was cold against my hand. I didn’t expect a high end dining experience, and when I walked in the entry way I was glad it wasn’t. The entry way was filled with cozy items. The faded rose pattern on the wallpaper complimented the display of family photos.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for a tall brunette man, it was a table for two.” I said to the hostess. She paused for a second, tapping on her tablet as she checks the current table descriptions.

“Ah yes, party of two for Reid?”

I confirmed and she led me through a hallway to our left, which led into a small dining area. The room walls were a burgundy color, illuminated by the candle sitting at the head of each table.

I thanked the woman as I walked toward Spencer. He looked a tad bit cleaner than usual, his hair was combed and tucked away behind his ears.

“Oh, here let me get that for you.” He rose from his seat and rushed over to the chair across from him.

“How gentleman like, Doctor.” He laughed and we both took our seats.

“Please, call me Spencer.” His form was more relaxed than it usually was in class, giving him a calmer and peaceful demeanor.

Dinner progressed, a glass of wine was nursed, and he insisted on paying our check. Though I had been on dates before, this felt like my first real adult date.

“How did you get here?” He inquired as we stepped onto the rough parking lot terrain.

“I took a cab, I’m thinking I may catch the train though.” I said. His mouth spread into a displeased expression.

“Nonsense, please let me drive you home. I would hate for those statistics we learned last week be applied in this manor.” I laughed and rolled my eyes. I hesitated to answer for a moment, instinctually I looked down and shifted my weight on my feet. The thought of him driving me home could end up in a number of ways; Mostly good. But, if I did take the train, it would end in a few ways; Mostly unmentionable.

“Alright, since you asked nicely.” His cheeks grew red as he avoided eye contact with me. I knew right then where our night would likely head.

“Would you like to come up? We can have a drink if you aren’t hell-bent on going to sleep before nine-thirty.” I joked with him.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want you to feel forced into anything because I know that theres a certain expectation when-“

“Spencer, if I didn’t want to fuck you, I wouldn’t have asked you up.”

Sure, having to say it in blatant terms is less than sexy, but thats what I adored about our dynamic at that point; I led the relationship.

I leaned into my fridge, purposefully bending over so my skirt lifted to show my ass.

“Well...fuck,” I said, “As it would turn out, someone stole my wine bottle and filled my fucking vodka bottle with water.” I stood up and shut the door, walking over to the counter inches away.

“One time I took the drink turn when it came to our friend-team-dinner-night, the bottle was forty dollars, which granted is the cheap wine more or less. To this day I still have no idea who stole the bottle, because I wanted to take it home.” Spencer reminisced. I laughed at his unusual way of trying to understand.

“Wasn’t really mine to begin with,” I started walking over to the sofa where he patiently sat. “I’m not of legal drinking age. But of course it tastes better when its forbidden, everything does.” I stepped in front of the man, his knees only an inch from my shin. "Can I touch you, Spencer?” I said in a soft voice, the lids of my eyes relaxed in a sweet shift.

“Y-yes.” He gasped, obviously so turned on by the way I stood over him, in power of him. I threaded his hair through my fingers and tugged back, pushing his head as far up as I could. His eyelids fell and he was no longer looking at me.

“Look at me, sweetheart. I want you to see everything.” He opened his eyes, his irises were colored with lust and desperation. I connected our lips in a long a sweet kiss. Rather than just having a mess of tongues, the kiss was filled to the brim with emotion, of pleasure that this was happening again. His lips were slightly swollen when I pulled away to unbutton his shirt. While I fiddled with the garment, he put his hands on my hips firmly.

“Can I- can you sit on my lap?” he asked, a red tint forming on his face. I smiled and obliged, sliding his shirt off of his lean torso. I started kissing him once more, this time I made sure to press my dripping panties against the large tent in his trousers.

“Would you like to take this to the bedroom?” I ask,hands resting comfortably on his neck.

“Please”, I stood and laced our hands together, leading him to my bedroom. Once we both entered through the doorway, I pushed him onto the bed, he fell softly.

I reached my hands behind my back to unzip my dress, as I felt it fall past my legs and onto the floor, I saw his eyes scan every detail of my body.

“One might say you were planning this.” He eyed my matching lace set.

“Wanted to make sure Spencer Reid had the best.” I replied, climbing on top of him so that I would be straddling him. I felt his hands connect to my waist as we kissed, his hands were warm and excited me even more. He pulled away, quickly pressing his lips to my neck and collarbone. My breath hitched in my throat as he bit down lightly on the skin. “Lets get these off, shall we?” I motioned to his pants, which had to be killing him right now. While he does that, I reach into my drawer and retrieve a condom, laying against the plush material of my pillows after I set it down on the table.

He gets on top of me , pressing his lips with mine as he rubs the back of my bra, signaling he wants me to take it off. I ,of course, reach back and unhook it, tossing it onto the floor. He grabs my tit while dancing his tongue with mine, making me more wet than I thought was possible. Usually, these actions signified a need for control, but when Spencer did it, it was like a desperate sixteen year old boy. Its clear he needed me.

“Can I...” he nods down to my cunt, still covered by the thin material of my panties.

“Can you what, Spencer?” I lace my fingers in his hair and pull, earning a soft groan from the man hovering over me.

“Can I please eat you out?” He begged. I smiled and pushed his head down, spreading my legs when his face met my stomach. He started by taking his thumb and rubbing over my clothed pussy. I bucked my hips, desperate for more friction. “Is it okay for me to take these off?” His eyes met mine, searching for confirmation. I smiled and nodded, moving my hands to stroke his hair rather than tug at it.

As his fingers latched onto the last piece of fabric that covered me, instinctually I pushed my hips upwards. He looked at me, silently asking if taking the garment off was still okay. When I bit my lip, a rose hue covered his face. He was flustered by me, by the escalation of us. But nevertheless, he slowly pulled off the last piece of modesty I had.

To re-assure him, I lightly tugged at his hair. Thankfully, he took the hint and licked a long stripe on my clit. My voice was caught in my throat as he continued making flat-tongued movements. I felt his hands slowly wrap around my thighs, pushing my heat into his face more than it already was.

He devoured me without hesitation, but when he pulled away for air he replaced it with two fingers and then when my stomach tensed and my eyes rolled back into my head, he used three. I finished with his mouth sucking on my bundle of nerves and his fingers buried inside me.

“Do you want to keep going?” He raised his head up and his thumb stroked my thigh, which he was still grasped onto.

“Yes, God yes please, Spencer.” I whined, the high fading away. He stood up off the bed and removed his strained boxers. He was beautiful; His lanky form was now a lean masculine type. I smiled at him, to which he obviously thought he was being laughed at. He couldn’t make eye contact with me, resulting to the floor instead. “Spencer,” I crawled towards the edge of my bed and placed my hands on his shoulders, “You are so gorgeous, the reason I’m smiling is because you always hide it in those sweater vests.” he relaxed.

“Thanks” he mumbles, still avoiding my eyes.

“Now please, come back here and let me take care of you.” He climbed back onto the bed while I rested against the pillows. He was nervous, and obviously he wanted to do it right. I could see his hands shaking as he unwrapped the condom and put it on.

“You’re sure?” He asks, the tip of his cock resting on the top of my inner thigh. He was easily six inches, my hand could probably wrap around and be too small.

“Yes, please fuck me.” He slowly inserted himself into my dripping cunt, causing me to let out a lewd string of words. Once again, my hands flung to his hair and tugged harshly, causing his arms to almost buckle beneath his own weight. I could feel his pelvis against mine, his muscular bottom torso pressed up against my clit. “Move, baby, its okay.” I reassure him. His hips pull away from mine, then snap back with a nice pressure. He quickly started to pick up his pace, small grunts escaping through his clenched jaw. “Do you like the feeling of your pathetic little cock inside my cunt? I bet you feel like a special little bitch now.” I moaned into his ear. “Well, are you going to tell me how much you enjoy my cunt?”.

“God, yes! I love it so fucking-“ his moan paused the sentence and he focused on getting his movements right.

“So fucking what? Go on, finish the sentence baby.”

“So fucking good, I love being inside of you so much!” He was practically whimpering in pleasure.

“Be a good boy and make me cum all over that pretty little cock of yours?” I struggled to contain my moans, I could not fall apart this quickly.

“Yes I will!” His fingers reached down to rub my clit, impressively keeping a steady rhythm. I felt the knot in my stomach becoming hotter and hotter as the minutes passed by.

“Oh my god, such a good- oh my god!” my eyes rolled back into my head as the impact of my orgasm was full forced. When my head cleared, I tugged on his hair, pulling his head so he could look me in the eye. “Gonna cum soon? Are you going to cum all inside of me?” his thrusts got off beat, he was close.

“Yes, I’m gonna-“

“Ask permission to cum, Spencer.”

“Can I please cum inside of you? Please?” He whines.

“Of course you can, baby.” With that he makes a strained moaning noise and his hips slowly stop moving. We’re both panting, while he flushes the condom I walk into the bathroom next to him. I turn to the shower and twist the hot water knob.

“We might as well get clean together, yeah?” I said.

“Yeah.” he smiles and kisses me once more.

[bubsdolan]

y/n going on a hawaii trip with gray 🌺

waimea bay, an area notorious for the breathtaking views, beaches and the best landmarks for cliff jumping in hawaii. hawaii was ancient and humbling, the freshness of the air opening your lungs and allowing you to live life to the absolute fullest. it was an area that held happy memories, nostalgia and a large chunk of your heart. it was the area you first locked eyes with your now husband- grayson dolan, and the rest was history.

falling in love with grayson three years ago to date, in the exact location of waimea bay, felt like a dream. your group of friends merging into one late one summer evening, all having the same idea for a midnight cliff jump. yourself and grayson hit it off immediately, it was a gravitational force that pulled you together subconsciously. grayson could sense your fear of the cliff and was your support system when you felt pressured into the jump. he never let go of your hand the entire night, getting to know you for you and breaking down your walls little by little. that night your life changed forever. 

walking hand in hand down the mesmerising beaches, your feet dripping the sand beneath you, you remised on the earlier stages of your relationship. pointing out the exact underwater cave you shared your first kiss, the cute little hut on the shore where grayson took you one night for a traditional hawine feast and not forgetting the rock you slipped on and spilt your head open when trying to show off for the most attractive man you had ever laid your eyes on- resulting in a night in urgent care with an emtional grayson by your side just hours into knowing each other. that’s the exact moment when you knew he was something special.

yourself and grayson were now on your honeymoon. vowing to spend the rest of you lifes loving each other before fleeing to the one place on earth you felt the most connected. the sun was setting on your first magical night in paradise, a trip down memory lane as you conversed with the locals, supporting the small family owned businesses you came to love and experiencing the culture around you. grayson held you as you walked, your hair flowing in the wind, your eyelashes fluttering agasint your cheeks when the sun got to bright. grayson felt at home.

he had planned a date night, a dinner at a private rented beach accompanied by local catering and views that were to die for. setting up a sea of pillows, treats, blankets and dimly lit fairy lights, he wanted everything to be perfect. after all you were the definition of the word and he knew exactly what was required to show you how much you mean to him, to show you without so many words that you’re his endgame.

you sat on the secluded bench in peace, untouched golden sand and a rise of yellow in the distant horizon making you pinch yourself at your life. being with grayson felt like a fairy tale, a childhood dream that you never wanted to wake up from.

there was something so romantic about the beach. maybe it was the way grayson watched in awe as the soft touch of the gentle ocean breeze blew across your distinct features he has locked to memory. perhaps it was the calming vocals of the waves crashing that therapeutically washed away any built up stress, making him forgot about work for a few extra minutes as all he ever cared about was you. nothing could top the feeling of being there with you. his one true love.

“i have one more surprise for you, baby.”

grayson dusted his body down, chewing the last residents of a chocolate coated strawberry you had fed to him moments prior, before reaching a tender hand down to your level in order to assist you to your next adventure. you never questioned him for a second. happy to follow him to the ends of the earth if it meant you were with him.

“gray, you’ve done enough already,” you giggle as you try to keep up with his long, excitable strides. one hand reaching down to tame the craziness of your sundress that was seconds away from exposing you as grayson dragged you along the shore. a smile so bright, it lit up your whole world. you would do anything to keep him this happy. that was your one true purpose in live- grayson’s happiness.

“you know i love you right?”

was the only response grayson gave you, turning his head for a spilt second to witness a rose coloured tint on your cheeks bones as you nooded shyly. after so many years side but side, grayson never failed to make it feel like your very first day meeting. you were giddy yet he was your husband. shy like a school girl with an adorable crush.

“and you trust me, yeah?” he already knew the answer, but required your reassurance nevertheless.

of course, you nodded once again.

“good because we’re here.”

grayson stops you short before the edge of an all to familiar cliff. the formation of the giant rock engraved in your vision as you can already pinpoint the exact ledge grayson held your hand, allowing him to gain your trust and your heart all those many years ago.

“are we at-“ you begin to tear up. always so shocked on how you managed to bag the gift of grayson. he was better than you could have ever asked for.

“it’s our rock, baby,” grayson pulled you into his arms as he rubbed the pad of his warm thumb under your eyes, collecting the tears that has fallen from the thoughtful gesture. the perfect end to a perfect night. going back to the place it all started.

“together, on three. we jump, just like old times.” grayson pulls you to stand on the edge, making no attempt to loosen his grip as you stand and absorb the fresh air.

before you plummet into the water, with thrilling screams leaving your lips, a roaring laughter from grayson and the crash of the crystal clear water, you share a quick yet meaningful kiss.  a kiss that held a thousands words.

coming up for air, you immediately wrap your arms and legs around your husband. husband- never get used to saying that. grayson dolan was your husband. you, out or millions of suitors won his heart. protecting it with ever fibre of your body.

grayson caught you with no hesitation, his hands gripping just below your arse cheeks as he paddled in the water. holding you tightly to his chest, heart to heart, you could feel every deep breathe he took, his heart beat bringing you a sense of comfort. no matter how cold the night was turning.

you adored the way small droplets of water fell from his ever growing head of hair, his eyes sparkling with such love, pride and happiness as you couldn’t resist the urge to comb your fingers through the ends and release any tangles. you hummed in content as he lent into your palm, his eyes falling shut at the feeling of being so well looked after and loved.

your touch a drug to him as you held each other in the water. your body’s entwined.  you knew in that very moment the true meaning of being in love.

if love was a sound, it would be the contagious melody of grayson’s laughter. if love was to be described as a colour, it would be the perfect blend of browns that made up his eyes. if love was a smell, it would be the combination of his musky cologne with hints of salty water after your spontaneous jump. of love was a place, it was right here in his arm. if love was a taste, it was the sweetness of his plump lips against your own.

if love was a person, that person was grayson dolan.

“my wife.” grayson leaned in closer as the night drew to a close, the shadows of your face mirroring his own as his attention was fixated on your lips, so inviting he was eager to taste. his legs still working to keep you both above the water surface, forgetting all his surroundings as you were his main focus.

grayson’s heart beat grew faster as your lips joined in harmony. moulding like the perfect puzzle pieces as the water calmed around you, the breeze dying down and the sun setting on what happened to be the most magical night in the most magical island paradise.

“my husband.”

“forever, baby.”

[siriushxney]

: ̗̀➛ searing light | chapter two

— pairing ; darkling!dream x sun summoner!reader

— au ; shadow & bone

— wordcount ; 2.6k

— warnings ; fire, reader gets pushed around, rude soldiers/commanders

— note ; welcome to chapter two of searing light! I actually really enjoyed writing this part and coming up with how to twist the original story in my own little way — I hope you enjoy!

previous | next

when the moon was high and the sound around you was minimal, thoughts flowed easier — flowed into the streams of what if’s and premature regret and mourning. whatever happened the next day would either be a successful day — one to be celebrated with a feast unlike any other, or it would be another tick carved into the wood, next to the dozens of them that already were scratched in. you were sure that even those numbers were off, for when a certain number was reached without success, people started to lose faith.

this skiff however was designed for greatness — made by the hands of the second army, reinforced with grisha steel and said to be lighter — faster.

something wasn’t right.

if there is one thing that you had learned through your tough life growing up in ravka, it was that when your gut told you something — you trusted it. if your gut told you to avoid someone, you avoided them; if it told you to take a different path, you took the next path over; if it told you that no matter what anyone said, something was going to happen — you had to do something to stop it.

if not for yourself, for wilbur.

—

when the sun rose, and your boots were laced tightly — you made your way to the tent full of maps, careful to make sure your superiors were nowhere to be seen. the lot of them were seated in the food tent as they discussed today's trip and how long they thought it would last in the fold.

they had no shame when it came to talking about the failure of the second army when it came to this, and had even less shame when talking about the lives of their own people being lost. if ravka didn’t lose the war from the raging countries surrounding it, the fold was guaranteed to do the job for them.

walking into the tent that looked the exact same as it always did, despite being situated in a different part of ravka that you were used to. there were maps of different sizes displayed and thrown about, a rough and stained carpet laid on the grass and uncomfortable benches that you had known all too well pushed underneath tables.

quick feet brought you to stand in front of a cabinet which held map’s upon map’s — some of this part of ravka, and some of the ravka on the other side of the fold. the ravka that people on that side referred to as west ravka.

free from the royal blood on ravka’s soil that sat stuck behind the black barrier, west ravka sought out to become their own standing country — a hope that the fold would vanish, no longer clouded their minds. only the thought of independence and selfishness flowed through them.

“where are you…?” your tongue poked slightly out of the side of your mouth as you sited through the heap of yellow tinted paper, hoping to find anything and everything you could on what laid on the other side of the black wall.

beyond the fold - ravka

“aha,” the text at the top of the map caught your eyes. sifting through the numerous ones below it, you confirmed that you had found what you had come looking for. taking the maps in hand, making sure each was rolled up tightly so you could fit as many as you could into the small space, you rushed over to the trash bin in the corner.

with a look around the tent, and several peaks over your shoulders, you pulled out the box that weighed heavily in your pocket, despite weighing nothing compared to what you were used to carrying around.

what you were about to do would either get you a one way ticket to see the generals or aboard the skiff — either or, you could end up dead as a result.

a sharp flick of your wrist, a spark, and a light flowed from the tip of the match — the wood below it becoming charred as the flame ate at the wood with every second it burned bright. with one last look at the fully pieced together maps, and your ticket onto the skiff — you let the match fall — turning your back to it immediately, and not wasting any time as you fled the scene.

the sight of smoke wafting from the top of the tent, group’s of gasps and hurried feet rushing to it sounding from behind you.

blue eyes watching as you paced away hurriedly.

—

“well I don’t know what we're going to do.”

“we have to do something!”

“you think I don’t know that?!”

“we need to re-draw all those maps or the general will have our heads-“

“excuse me?” heads snapped in your direction, all your superiors looking at you with harsh eyes and deep frowns.

“what?”

you held back the scowl that wanted to cross your face at the women's tone, but for the sake of winning them over, you held yourself back. “If I may, I volunteer to go through the fold,” they looked at you with wide eyes. “i’ll re-draw everything-“

“you’re merely one mapmaker with thousands of miles to cover — we need more than one cartographer,” the woman shook her head as she looked down, her words directed at her fellow generals.

the other general thought, his eyes darting between you and the woman. “you’ll board the skiff shortly — alongside the rest of your squadron,” you fought to keep the look of shock off your face. “alert your tent of the decision immediately, you are dismissed.”

“sir, with all due respect-“

“you are dismissed soldier, that is an order.”

you couldn't fight orders — with a small nod and downcasted eyes, you shuffled your way back to your tent full of guilt and mind racing with second thoughts. all you wanted to do was get onto the skiff alongside wilbur, just you and youself alone — but in the process of doing so and with a selfish decision on your part, you had just put people who you had spent the last few years with in jeopardy.

it wasn't your intention at all.

lifting the flap of material that acted as a makeshift door to the tent, you walked in quietly, unsure of when to break the news or even how to start.

carey, a boy that you had gotten to know well over the years and someone who you considered to be one of your only friends alongside wilbur, stood at your arrival. his smile was bright and large.

“hey Y/N, do you wanna go for a walk? maybe watch the send-off together-”

“we have to board the skiff.”

heads around the tent shot up at your words, some eyes of questioning and confusion, others full of fear or anger.

luna shot up and paced to you hastily, giving you no time to react or prepare yourself as she grabbed you by the lapels of your uniform and swung you around so your backside was against the table.

with the force that she had shoved you into the hard wood, utensils and paper had gone flying — and your hands found purchase on the rough and spilled wood as you tried to steady yourself — jagged and pointed pieces pricking your skin.

“what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything-” you tried to pry her hands off of your uniform, but the sheer power she had was nothing you could fight with.

she was like a mouse who could kick a cats ass.

“luna let them go-”

“can it carey! they aren't into you so why don’t you just mind your own business and find someone else to fawn over,” it was no secret the boy had a crush on you — but in the heat of war and the constant fear for your life, there was no room for him or anyone else.

her fists still gripped your jacket harshly — your body jerking with every movement she made. “now, tell me what you did to get us all on that death trap, or saints help me-”

“whats going on here?” luna’s head had snapped over immediately, her hair whipping behind, and her hands disappearing just as fast as she turned.

tilting your head to the side, the first thing you noticed was the colour that stuck out like a sore thumb in the tent — bright purple. eyes trailing up the figure, you next noted the blonde hair that was draped over their shoulders. and lastly, the blue eyes that could hypnotize anybody they were simply batted at.

it was the grisha that you had made eye contact with a few days prior.

“nothing-” the grisha sent one look to luna and the girl immediately quieted.

“are you okay?” the grisha questioned you suddenly — the harsh look that once covered her face now melted into something more sincere — more concerned.

you pushed yourself up from your uncomfortable position that luna had managed to bend you in over the table, carey’s hands helping you in any way he could despite being brushed off. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern,” you stepped away from luna hesitantly — unsure of what the girl would do with her eyes still holding a deadly intent.

“I was sent here to lead you to the skiff — the group of you are running behind,” the girl mainly spoke to you, her eyes wandering as she spoke however. “I’d advise you to get your materials and get to the skiff immediately — anybody found at the camp who should be on the skiff will be punished.”

carey rushed to collect his things as soon as the words were muttered, luna trailing behind stubbornly, only leaving behind a glare directed at you, before her back was fully turned.

with the bag on your hip containing everything that you had needed, you made a move to exit the tent — the grisha following behind you immediately.

“you know I do have to ask — what were you thinking?” she asked as soon as the two of you had exited the tent.

“excuse me?”

“you exited a tent that had smoke pouring out of it, and didn't bat an eye when panic washed over everyone — I wanna know what you were thinking setting whatever was in there on fire-” you hand gripped her kefta quickly, your eyes wide and mouth opened in shock.

“be quiet would you?! I’ll explain everything if you just keep your voice down,” her eyes didn't meet your own, only observing your hand that wrinkled the tough purple fabric on her arm. you released it immediately with a short and quiet apology.

the blue eyed grisha looked up to you, to the skiff, and back to you — her eyes holding a glimmer of amusement. “I know you did it, and I have a feeling I know why you did it too — your lover boy is on the skiff.”

lover boy?

looking at the skiff, you could see wilbur, plain as day, looking at the two of you with confusion — or more to say confusion towards the grisha stood by your side, and anger towards you and your appearance.

“I don’t have a lover boy.”

“the tall curly haired one — it’s not hard to tell.”

you grimaced at that. you and wilbur were nothing more than friends, siblings to say the least — raised at the hip with minds so alike it was scary.

“that so-called ‘lover boy’ you speak of is wilbur, and I can guarantee there's nothing going on there.”

the grisha hummed quietly, her eyes bouncing between the two of you before finally sighing. “If you say so,” she offered you her hand. “I’m niki.”

as you went to introduce yourself, the harsh call of your name interrupted you — wilbur yelled your name as he dodged and squirmed his way through the crowd of people who made a move to board the skiff. you turned back to niki with a bashful smile.

“why am I being told that you're crossing the fold?” wilbur distanced himself from niki — unsure and untrusting of anyone who was gifted in the small science.

“because I am?”

“no you’re not.”

“yes they are.”

you knew wilbur wanted to snap back at the girl with a ‘I wasn't talking to you’ card, but the coat that adorned her body stopped him in his tracks. he had told you once before when the two of you passed a group of grisha women at your old camp that “grisha women were scarier then grisha themselves.”

wilbur was scared of the grisha in front of you.

“yes I am, and you can’t do anything about it,” you tried to bring the atmosphere to somewhere different — wilburs eyes coming back to you instead of the offput stare he was once giving niki.

“all aboard! skiff is leaving in t-minus two minutes!”

“well, that's our que,” niki gripped both your sleeve, and wilbur’s and dragged you to the bridge that led up onto the skiff. bodies rushing up, and some attempting to rush down — hands dragged them back on.

some people were in a frenzy to get off the skiff, while some stood stiffly looking out into what they were about to enter — eyes holding nothing more than fear and questioning.

questioning if they would return.

“you have nothing to fear, I promise — the new skiff was built by my colleagues and me. it was built to go faster,” niki spoke, her hand laying gently on your shoulder as she guided you and wilbur to stand on the side of the deck. “all you need to remember is to stay quiet, don’t light any lanterns, and most importantly — keep your head down.”

the squeak of the bridge’s hinges echoed throughout the skiff — the wood and steel alike being pulled up to close the entry and exit point. there was no way off unless you made a jump.

in less than a moment after the bang sounded from the bridge closing entirely, your body was jerked into niki’s — her hand coming to steady you, much like she did with wilbur as he swayed slightly.

every second you inched closer and closer to the fold, the unwelcoming and crip air nipped at your nose, ears, and cheeks — the sound of screeching and echoing howls the monstrosities that lived within let out, made your knee’s feel as if they would give out any minute.

being on the outside had been scary enough — but going in, head first was unimaginably more horrific. no nightmare or intrusive thought could have prepared you for what you were about to enter.

what you were about to experience.

the grisha and first army soldiers alike that stood near the front of the skiff disappeared into the black smoke when the skiff had finally breached the darkness, and second by second, that darkness had grown closer to you.

with her hands on your shoulder blades, and your wrist held tightly by wilbur — you took a deep breath.

the light disappeared and the air grew thick — breathing needing more forces, and your head beginning to pound due to the pressure drop.

you were in the fold, and there was no turning back.

—

crowds of soldiers and grisha gathered on the dock, watching as the skiff was engulfed by the black smoke — whispers of worry, reassurance, and mourning echoed about. they would wait for the news of the skiff not returning, or they would wait for a skiff full of allies and friends to return — goods in hand and smiles on their faces.

but he didn’t pay mind to any of them.

he stood tall against the harsh wind — the black cloak and kefta flowing with it, and hair blowing wildly. his eyes never leaving where the skiff had entered.

“general, the first army’s headman would like to speak with you before you leave for the little palace.”

“of course, tell him to meet me in my tent,” the grisha hummed in response and turned to relay the message to the leader of the first army. “oh and sapnap?”

“yes general?”

“tell george to keep his eye on the fold — I have a good feeling about this trip.”

if only he knew what would unfold inside of the darkness only miles ahead of him.

— authors note ; I didn’t want to put this at the start as to not spoil the meeting of a character, but I wanted to clarify that niki and wilbur are not love interests. strictly platonic. the dynamic will remain there however!

— taglist ; open

@dreamslittlebitch //

[kojinnie]

Dream Me Home: Before Shiganshina

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Reader (gender neutral)

Tags: angst, mild fluff, established relationship (implied), canon universe. Reader is one of the Veterans. spoiler alert if you haven’t gone through anime S3

Summary: Moments shared with Erwin Smith leading up to his timely death. A three-chapter story, surrounding moments before and after the Battle of Shiganshina.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Set after Levi tried to convince Erwin not to head for Battle of Shiganshina.

This will be a trilogy, with the next two parts coming up soon! All the time set before, during and after Battle of Shiganshina. Hope you enjoy this!

There was an evident pain in the eyes of Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe as they stepped out of Erwin’s office, and you could feel the weight of their stares immediately fell to the floor when they met your eyes.

Your steps were heavy as you approached them, but it was obvious that they had no intention to making a stop at you. Just Hange passing sympathy to you, patting your shoulder in consolation and Levi, the ever so quiet soldier, murmuring with regret, “We couldn’t change his mind. Sorry.” 

And then they both strived on. Leaving the hallway leading to Erwin’s office as quiet as it was before.

You could feel the stonewall of Mitras grew cold at your touch as you leaned to it, as you gathered what’s left of your heart. You had been anxiously pacing outside Erwin’s office for hours, wishing that there was enough power in Hange and Levi’s words in convincing Erwin to turn away from the eyes of war. You had been wishing, that if your solemn plea did not get to Erwin’s heart, at least his camaraderie with Levi and Hange would. As it happened, it all turned out to be nothing but a wishful thinking.

The afternoon sunrays dispersed through the columns of Mitras, and they made a beautiful gleam of warmth on the hallway steps leading to Erwin’s office. There’s beauty in living, you thought to yourself and it saddened you because you did not understand why Erwin would want to leave this all behind.

You racked your brain, trying to gather all the things you would reason to him with. All the beauties in the living he could see: The glimmer of Trost’s cobblestones underneath the street lamps; the joyful shriek of kids basking in the summer heat; the piercing cold of winter expedition outside the wall; or even, the mundane military briefing with the odd bore that Darius Zackly was, where Erwin would steal a glance at you across the room. And then the smile you faintly threw back at him, or the butterflies within your guts as you saw him rose from his seat, laying out his battle strategy before the eyes of the Wall’s most important men. Would those be enough reasons to soften the hardened heart of Erwin Smith?

He knew you had been lingering outside his office, evident by his call to you just now. His deep voice seeped through the door that wasn’t fully closed, “You can come in now.”

You knew what it was not to cry, to dismiss your emotion for it was the worst weakness a soldier could ever possess. Battle-born and inured, you had no privilege of being fragile when it comes to the fate of all human: death.

So, you remained stoic, as you walked in to his office.

“Commander.”

“Captain.”

Your eyes met, and the look of agony was apparent in the skies of his eyes that had grown cold and tired. He averted his eyes from you, quickly to the paper works laid out on the desk in front of him. Your heart broke to see the struggle he had writing down simple notes, slowly and carefully by each alphabet, as he was still trying to make use of his left arm.

You closed the door behind you and made your way to him, repossessing all the self-restraint you had, “You’re a difficult man to sway.”

Once the door was closed, and there were only the two of you, you could feel warmth started to grew in Erwin. Something unbeknownst to other soldiers but you, “I am,” He said with a dim smile, “Unfortunately.”

“You must be proud of yourself,” there was a bitterness in your statement that you masked by pacing around Erwin’s office, staring afar at the view of the afternoon through his windows.

“I would, if I still had my right arm,” Erwin laid out a large parchment, and reached for the ruler, staring at the squad formation that he had strategized, “and not be a dead weight to my soldiers—do you mind?”

You quickly helped to hold the parchment and the ruler in place, as Erwin drew formation lines with his left hand. Shaky, he messed his inked.

He gruntled in annoyance and threw a new parchment on the table, signaling you to take over instead. You had become acquainted of Erwin Smith’s thoughts and ideas, and without much direction you drew the formation he was meaning to draw.

“I will lead the cavalry here,” he pointed at the forefront of the formation, motioning for you to draw accordingly, “the rear will be packed with new recruits. Unfortunately, it will be our most susceptible point. I’ll have Levi there.” You drew an x with red ink on the places he’d pointed at, a mark signifying the position of humanity’s strongest soldier.

“Where Hange and the kids will be?”

“They’re not kids anymore,” he retorted in dismay, there was almost a pain in the way he spoke, “not since the wall broke.”

He had grown to care for the kids, you came to realize. The 104th Cadets who got so deep in the crossfire of humanity’s last effort to survive, and now they’re at the front-line of it. Retaking Wall Maria was the mission, and Shiganshina was the destination. This was the city decimated by the might of the Colossal and Armored Titan years ago, the beginning of a prolonged dark sequence in a life that was already a living hell. And now they were to return, at the same place it started, facing the same Titans.

You remembered it, fighting for survival through the hurdles of cobbles and rubbles, as houses and buildings of Shiganshina flew like debris across your head. The uncanny stench of guts and blood, as you made your best effort to keep anyone alive from the wrath of the giant devils.

The way your Scout uniform latched on to your skin, dampened by the blood of mothers and daughters – is a memory forever ingrained deep within your mind. You were there, and the fear never left you. That’s why you left the Scout and joined the Garrison, “serve where you may” were the words that Erwin uttered the day you announced your repositioning, as you coped with the possibility of losing Erwin, each time he braced another expedition outside the wall. No longer with you close to him, or in any position where you may give aid whenever danger bruised him. You were selfish, but Erwin understood your decision.

“Is this the formation you’re going to use against the Beast Titan?” you asked. There was an immediate scare creeping through your spine as you mentioned the devil’s name. You had heard of this newly emerging titan; a creature of horror, one that was so menacing with capability beyond compare. The one that took Miche, and the one that Erwin had to face now.

He did not say a word, only a nod.

“Have you fought him before?” The wariness in your voice was getting apparent, as emotions started to defeat your trained restraint, “how do you know your standard formation would work on him?”

The Commander sighed, validating your fear. Ever since he lost an arm, his balance had been quite compromised. He put his hand on the surface of his working desk for support, as he sat himself down on his leather-bound chair.

“You don’t.”

“Yes. You’re right,” Erwin paused for a moment, and slowly tilted his head up to look at you towering over him. It was a foreign sight, to see him wounded and fragile as he had always been the shield of courage to your feeble heart, “I do not. I want you to know that.”

“What will happen then?”

Erwin looked down, his right hand reached to where his left arm used to be, massaging it softly. You knew he had not coped well with his injury, the sleepless nights, the ghostly itch, the deprecation he inflicted towards himself. Erwin Smith was not used to being looked down and pitied, and it frustrated him to no end. When the news broke that he would be heading for the mission, everyone thought the same, ‘He is going to die’, but no one had enough guts to tell him directly to his face but Levi and you. Everyone thought that Erwin was oblivious to this possibility, but only the two of you knew that Erwin already anticipated the possible lethal end for him, and still, it would not dissuade his choice. Erwin had made his decision.

Erwin reached for the ruler and pointed the lines and crosses you had drawn, elaborating the plan of capturing both Colossal and Armored Titan with the explosive device that Hange had invented. He talked about the prospect of retaking Wall Maria, its details and strategies, and it was upsetting that at times Erwin would treat you like you were only his soldier, not someone who had been close to his heart for years.

You softly put down the ruler in his hand to the desk, as your eyes fell on his, “Erwin, what will happen to you?” The Commander in Erwin dissipated in your presence, and you could feel his eyes started to display the vulnerability he had sworn to disguise to no end, “You’re in no condition to fight.”

“That’s true.” He muttered, holding the hand you had on his ruler. His thumb softly caressed the skin on your knuckles as he dragged his stare away from your eyes – gazing afar at the afternoon skies that had turned warmly tinted as the sun fell, “Levi was adamant that I’d return as a corpse if I go.”

The coil in your guts grew tighter as you gulped your despair down with the pretense of a toughened comrade, “I share his foresight.”

“You do?”

“Erwin, I do.”

The words hung in your throat like a tumor. You realized, death has countless faces, and you have encountered many of them, yet Erwin’s would be the one death you may never recover from.

Erwin smiled, taking your hand to his lips and kissed it long, closing his eyes with an odd serene look on his face, “In another world, you would say those words in a completely different circumstance, you know?”

You cackled, because you had no better response to that, but even trying to humorize the predicament you were in only pain your heart further, “Yes, I know.”

The tears finally broke soundlessly, it seeped through the crack of your broken heart, and cascaded down your face to Erwin’s relief, as he realized he still held what’s left of your heart, “What will become of me then?” you asked, “Without you?”

He stood up and pulled you closer, cupping your face with his coarse hand and kissed the eyelid where the tear had fallen from, as he said softly, “I want you to listen carefully.”

You nodded, and peeled your face away from his hand. Listening like an obedient soldier that you were.

“If I don’t make it, Hange will lead on as the Commander. Levi, he will make it out alive. He must.” Erwin eyes didn’t leave yours, “Many of us will not be returning home. If I be one of them… I want you to take me home. Whatever left of me. I want you to be the one to recover my body, and lay me next to my father.”

“My soldiers will need your help. If the time comes and a messenger has been dispatched to confirm that we have won the battle, I want you to bring your Garrison squad to Shiganshina, to help the wounded, and bring the bodies home – to peace that they have died for."

You nodded, although his words swarmed your mind like piercing knives. But you nodded, because you wanted to be strong even when the strength that you always leaned yourself on was to depart and never return.

You looked once again at the divine blue irises that taught you all about duty and tenacity, and imagined the life you could live on if Erwin and you weren’t born in the lap of despair that you called home. In another life, you would hear music of peace and pride, not somber wail of war and wrath. But for now, you chose to live and savor the painful taste of goodbye.

“I’ll be close behind, Commander,” you said with a faint smile, dusting yourself up, “you can count on me.”

Erwin passed a solemn nod as he pulled you in closer to the last embrace you would have with him, and whispered, “Dream me home, my darling. Dream me home when I’m no longer here.”

Hey guys! Thanks for reading it. So far, this is still one of the works that I enjoyed writing the most, so glad if you happen to like it!

ADD-ON: Anyway, if you like this and wonder how Levi x Reader version the night before the battle would be like, @weepinglevi wrote Levi's conversation with his S/O the night before the battle. And I really love her works so much, you can check hers here.

Hope you have a nice day and remember: Erwin loves you.

Or you can check my Masterlist here!