#it was Very Difficult to fit in the small bits of pink and yellow

[synesthete-sylke]

based on a song by gideon with the same name!

gave me far too much brainrot. deck building dungeon crawling treasure hunting, collect 'em all ways point to the strategist fumbling babeyyy

colors based on what i see for the song! finally living up to my username :b

[honeyhalcyon]

🍯 Wonderlands x Showtime Headcanons

Notes: I can't quite remember who requested this but I hope they see this!

Featuring: Age regressor Nene; caregivers Tsukasa, Rui & Emu.

[Image Description: a pink box with darker pink edges on the upper left and lower right corners; the text in the middle reads "sfw interaction only please" and there is a drawing of a simplified yellow bee in the lower left corner /End ID]

🐝 I think Nene's little age ranges from 1-7! Since she has a large age range, her interests and abilities can vary wildly from one day to the next

When she's on the younger side of her age range, she's mostly a quiet and easily entertained baby; kid-friendly games and movies can capture her attention for hours, though of course her caregivers limit her screen time

🍯 Nene likes more difficult video games when she's a bit older, though she struggles a bit with the complex games she usually plays while big, which can frustrate her

She's not a huge fan of playing outside, but Emu always comes up with fun games to convince her to spend some time in the sun; or even just convincing her to play a video game outside, so she's at least still getting some fresh air

🐝 Nene also likes baking with Emu! Though sometimes when she's really small, she needs Emu's help to pour the ingredients into the bowl

Rui probably has a lot of creative and educational toys leftover from when he was a child, and these are perfect for Nene; she likes to play with these toys while Rui works on his own inventions, it lets her feel like she's also making a cool invention

🍯 In the very beginning, she was a bit more cautious around Tsukasa, but eventually warmed up to him; small Nene actually really enjoys watching him rehearse for shows, and sees him as sort of a role model due to him being so confident on stage

One of her favorite things to do when little is to build a blanket fort; she always insists that her caregivers hide in the fort with her, though they can't always all fit

🐝 Nene has a bit of trouble sleeping alone when she's very small, so it's not uncommon for one or more of her caregivers to have a sleepover with her to help her feel safe

She also really likes when her caregivers watch her play her games, and tries to show off by completing the hardest levels she can; they always react with the appropriate awe and encouragement when she does this

[Image Description: a pattern resembling honey dripping down. /End ID]

[diamond-vic]

I decided to try to make a keldeo paper phone case graphic on impulse and I succeeded!! For fun here’s how I did it

Materials- A clear phone case, any sort of paper, scissors (preferably smaller ones), sticky notes, glue stick, pencil, some container to hold scraps (optional, but recommended)

I started by simply tracing out the shape of my phone, and cutting it out. I should have taken the case off for this, but I didn’t, so my initial shape was too big to fit on the inside of the case. Nevertheless, it is probably better for this first shape to be too large than too small, as you can trim uniformly along the edges of your shape until you can slip it into the case. Initially, I tried to cut a little window in for the camera and flash, but it was too difficult to do so neatly, so I opted to just cut a notch in for that section.

I then sketched down the design I wanted, trying to keep in mind where I’d put the colors. I used sticky notes of 6 colors (yellow, blue, green, orange, pink and purple), so I wanted to make the design work with these colors and have it be readable. It probably would have been best to do the background first, but I jumped impulsively right into doing keldeo.

For thinner / more translucent sticky notes, I found you could see through them to the pencil sketch fairly easily, so I had to erase as I went. This also, however, made it somewhat easier to trace out the shapes I needed. For several of the shapes, I turned my phone’s flashlight on and used it as a sort of light table so I could trace certain shapes so they could be sure to not overlap existing pieces. I glued using an Elmer’s glue stick

From there, I used a mix of freehand scraps (for example, the water and skyto give it a sort of wavy look), carefully traced shapes (such as the grass around the legs), and relifting previously glued pieces to slide new ones underneath (purple mountains are slid under Keldeo’s blue neck fluff and pink mane) to form the background. It could get super tedious and frustrating, especially when it’s all unplanned. It’s definitely easier to slide pieces under other pieces when they are finely detailed; I could never have cut a purple piece to fit around keldeo’s little pink ponytail without details being lost (believe me, I tried!). I used an old little plastic clay carving tool with a small, pointed but non sharp shovel-shaped edge to gently pry up pieces so I could glue new ones under. You do need to be careful that the pieces you do this with aren’t too much darker than the pieces on top, or else they may be visible in the final, such as the small bit of purple poking under keldeo’s lifted front shoulder. I also needed to glue the edges of pieces down repeatedly when they’d lift up over time. For this, I also used the carving tool, but you could likely use any small slightly sharp object for this, like the end of a toothpick. Simply scoop up a small bit of glue and glide it under the lifted piece before reattaching. Repeat until the madness is over.

Very important warning: be careful of the glue you get on your fingers when doing this!! If you get glue on sketched on pencil and later try to erase it, it can leave a dark smudge, and it can even generally just leave dark smudges when left to dry (you can see some of this on the water). Try to scrape off any excess glue as quickly as possible with a toothpick or other small tool!!

While I’m not sure what good it would do, I did sort of ‘laminate’ this piece before I put it into my phone. I didn’t want to use permanently sealing laminating sheets, as this would both be permanent and likely make the piece too large to fit in the case, so I instead cut up a clear sheet protector you’d use to hold notes in a binder. I placed the piece in the corner and cut the protector down to size, then trimmed until it could fit within the case. I had to cut down one sealing edge, meaning it only holds the piece between two bits of plastic held together with one hinge. However, this did give me some peace of mind knowing I didn’t shove a straight up sheet of paper covered with sticky notes in there

Anyway !! This actually only took two days total, so while meticulous and tedious, it isn’t extremely hard. Especially considering I just sorta jumped right in hoping it’d work out with 0 knowledge if it would!! It’s such a special invigorating feeling to see the final project on your phone and know you have a special little work of art following you around!

nobody can say I’m not keldeo’s #1 fan now

[dollsonmain]

Ok I have to sit down for a bit...

Anyway, the main unit is in.

I totally cheated shhhh

Ok, so now I know I do NOT like that for this space, though I could paint the rails and shelves a different color. It does look more like a store shelf, and this isn't a store it's Barbie's like...fifth house or something. If I were making a little country themed general store maybe.

I used one of the shelving units to mark where to put foamboard shelves, though I am struggling with putting this together because I'm assembling it piece by piece ON the bed to make sure everything fits, and it would be easier to do a clean, no visible glue assembly if I did it from like, one side to the other.

Another thing making this difficult is the wall in the way. I did take off the roof, but that wall doesn't come off. I also tried pulling the hinge pin but can't get a good grip on it with the pliers and decided not to stress myself out over it.

Now I just have to figure out the rest of it.

I know I will put 3 shelves, each in a different color of paper. I don't know which colors, though.

None of them are really right for this house.

The pink is wrong pink but it's somewhere between the too-bright phone and the faded out floor.

There is no purple elsewhere in the house, but I went with the purple counter anyway.

The green and yellow I have aren't right, but I think they look ok?

This blue is wrong blue and I'm not sure if it looks ok or not. I plan to use the same colors in the kitchen, so at least that would kind of fit after a little detail work over there.

I think it'll look fine with the kid's room segment of the house because it's childish. It'll look weird af with the fireplace room, though...

Whatevs. Maybe the fireplace goes in the bedroom with the big bed.

I don't know.

Oh, I just had an idea to use the sticky craft foam as brackets for the shelves. Then I only have to glue on the backs. That would save me a lot of trouble I think.

Worth considering.

What I don't know is whether I will put big cabinet doors or some drawers on the bottom. Or maybe two small cabinet drawers and one long drawer on top.

I haven't decided.

Either way this is going to look very out of place, huh? Very Kindergarten Ikea in a country cottage setting.

[royalsealy]

R: Rate these brands from your favorite to least favorite: Angelic Pretty, Btssb, A&P, Innocent World, Bodyline, and Metamorphose! S: Do you think Sugary Carnival is cute, or overrated? X: What’s the worst print or dress you’ve seen?

Thanks for asking!!

R: Rate these brands from your favorite to least favorite: Angelic Pretty, Btssb, A&P, Innocent World, Bodyline, and Metamorphose!

Top level:

Metamorphose! I love how experimental they are with prints, construction, and color scheme plus I never have to worry about the fit. Their website is very friendly to english-speaking consumers which is a plus

Mid tier: A&P, BTSSB

A&P - usually they're not in my style but I think what they come out with is really pretty, I've heard good things about their customer support and sizing so that's a bonus

BTSSB - Cotton dresses! They feel really sturdy too. Usually easier to find a nice piece second hand for not as much, my only qualm is their sizing can be a bit limiting.

Low tier: AP, Innocent World

AP - I love their older prints and designs and a few of their newer designs, but a lot of it is not for me. Their sizing is inconsistent which makes them more difficult, and they sent me a dirty headbow lol.

Innocent world - they're more classic so not as much in my wheel house but they do have some designs I love (like the chair dress). Their sizing is also very small

No opinion:

Bodyline- I feel like their stuff is never in stock or at least not the colorway/size I'd like, also their shipping is pricey. Their quality varies but what I've seen is cute :)

S: Do you think Sugary Carnival is cute, or overrated?

I think it's cute! The recent re-release for the OP being 10 cm smaller than advertised makes it overrated for me :')

But I'd still like to have it one day as it feels like on of those pieces everyone has so it'd be easy to twin

(Ideally the sax or black OP, assuming the arm cuff is comfortable )

X: What’s the worst print or dress you’ve seen?

This is a tough one! I'm going to go with the first one I saw while starting the fashion that made me go 'I don't get it'

(More under cut)

Happy Garland by Angelic Pretty.

Specifically the 2022 series and not the 2023 one (I think the skirt cut is cute and I like the black/mint colorways).

What bothers me about this release is that I feel like the print itself is overly stuffed and busy. On top of that, the yellow, pink, and sax colorways when used it makes it harder to see some of these details, as the colors of the print aren't altered depending on the colorway, all of the pink/sax/yellow elements of the print completely disappear on the dress. But the white stock photo looks both underwhelming and overwhelming to me, there's so much on there and because of that I can't make anything out so it feels like nothing is going on at the same time.

I also had the displeasure of touching this dress in person and it felt like a nightmare fabric, it was like a thin, almost translucent plastic sheet. Not only did it feel like it would rip super easy but the texture itself is horrendous. I can't imagine how uncomfortable it would be to wear it, I'm sure it gets hot too. All I can think of is how it'd be like being wrapped in a tarp or a tent.

All these things combined on top of Angelic Pretty charging 300 dollars for it, to me makes this one of the worst prints/dresses I've seen.

(I also don't blame people who got this one because they had no clue what that fabric was going to be like, it just feels disrespectful to the consumer. Not at all judging people who own this since all of our tastes are unique, I just feel like AP could have done better in a lot of ways with this one)

[rosetintedgunman]

Stress? He would consider himself stressed out, just a little tired maybe. After all, running your own TV show can be a bit tiring. When would it not? Stress felt like a bit of an overkill. But hey, anything to talk, right? Who better to talk to than himself?

"Sounds like a plan to me, Rose! I hope you don't mind, I have my own skates." Reaching behind his back, out of nowhere, he pulls out a set of roller skates. The shoe itself is pink, and the wheels are bright shades of yellow and blue. And of course, there's a small mustache design on the heel.

"Oh, well, that's rather helpful of you. I'd appreciate that very much." He'd definitely want to come back here. This looked like the perfect place to kill his boredom. So much to do, so much to see. Colors that made his brain buzz in the best way. Games to play, drinks to drink, rinks to skate in. Perfect.

With a snap of his fingers, and a cloud of pink smoke, the skates are out of his hands, and on his feet, fitted to perfection. "It's been a minute since I've skated. But I should still have it in me!"

-@wilfywarfy

Previous

@wilfywarfy

-

Oh, now aren't those skates adorable? Look at the pop of colours! Very delightful! In comparison, Rose's seem quite different when he lifts them from a table that definitely had nothing on it a blink earlier. The shoes were white, with the trademark moustache symbol on the outside ankles. The wheels were a matching pink, but the laces were rainbow. "Don't worry. Folks can bring in their own skates. Long as yer not gonna set my rink on fire, we'll be all good ta go." Surely the other him wasn't a fire-setter, right? Hopefully not.

Wilford wanted to return? Fantastic! Rose would have that return item arranged later. Right now, skating was on the agenda.

"As long as ya can stand on yer two feet, I'll make sure ya won't fall over." It would be rather difficult to knock Rose back. He was quite bulky in build. Dropping onto one of the couches, he begins to undo his shoes and put on the skates normally. While this seems a little counter-productive, it's actually a sneaky plan on the bartender's part.

"So! Are ya still part of th' Studios, Wilfy?"

[lasciviouspoison]

love of my life

so…. we’re back again to indulge in some eren fluff <3 this is straight fluff!!!!! (tw: grief/talk loss of a loved one, tw: being a chubby/fat woman in society. what comes along with that. college!au, eren x chubby!reader!!!!!! eren x black!reader!! (no explicit skin color used so all my girlies can relate <3) reader is a girl, but i feel as though my gn!readers would enjoy as well. pet names such as “sweetheart” and “pretty girl” are used very sparingly.

it started in the university library, with you glancing around, looking for a certain book. although you had plenty of other assignments you could’ve been working on, it was time for you to indulge in something of your own enjoyment. however, the book you’d been looking for (and read many times over) wasn’t in its usual spot.

normally, your friend armin would’ve been working the library, so you would’ve had no problem asking him for assistance. the two of you had met in your English class and bonded over your love for books and even cinema.

however, there was someone new here today.

standing behind the service counter, eren jeager stood at approximately 6’1 with his long hair tied back into a bun. a few difficult strands took residence on his forehead, with some even curling just a bit. his eyes were a beautiful jade green, and his lips an extremely kissable pink.

it made you a bit nervous to walk up to the new boy at the counter, simply because you were so used to armin and the enjoyable conversations you would have about the books you would check out. awkward conversations were such a hassle and you didn’t really feel like making a fool out of yourself by saying something embarrassing in front of this beautiful stranger.

and yet, he felt the same way about you.

although eren dressed in his leather jacket and black chinos and appeared to be a shitty kind of guy, he was nothing of the sort. sure eren was rough around the edges and had a vocabulary mainly made up of swear words and sexual references, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t also a sweet and gentle guy.

and upon seeing you walk up to the service counter, it was like his life flashed before his eyes. he could tell you exactly what you had on that day, down to the color of your leg warmers. a seemingly off white, maybe even a cream color if viewed in yellow lighting. they covered a bit of the black loafers you had on that day. he still remembers how thankful he was when one of the golden buckles broke after you turned a little too hard on your heel.

your hair was up in a clip, a green one in the shape of a heart that you could only see when you turned your head to the side. two strands of your curly hair placed in front of your face to frame it.

your neck was adorned in a small silver necklace. dainty and pretty, just like you. clear glasses tucked into your shirt collar reminding him of his own that took up space in his right pocket. he felt the urge to grab them and put them on, just so you could see that the two of you had at least one thing in common.

god he was acting like a fucking spaz.

but he couldn’t help it, you looked beautiful in your sage green cardigan, he made a mental note of your favoritism towards the color green, that was only buttoned by your chest to give you a looser layer of clothing. your white shirt was cropped and tight on your body, matching well with the tight black mini skirt you wore. both materials fitting like a second skin on your chubby body.

he swore that when he got back to the apartment, he would kiss armin for asking him to cover his shift today.

finally, you had made it to the service counter and decided to just ask. he worked here, so he had to at least have an idea of where said book was.

“hi” you said with a smile, and eren knew he was a goner.

“hey, is there anything that i can help you with?” he said back with a smile of his own.

okay, so maybe this wouldn’t be as awkward as you thought.

“so i’m looking for a book, but i can’t seem to find it at all. i’ve looked at the poetry section twice, and i still can’t manage to see it. i was wondering if you happened to know where it was?”

not only were you hyper aware of your surroundings at the time because of eren, but you also realized just how much you were talking. all you had to do was ask for help finding a book, this hot guy didn’t need your whole life story.

“of course i can help you find it. i’ll have to check the system to see if we have it first just to make sure we aren’t wasting our time. what’s the title sweetheart” he spoke back, mentally smacking himself for the same reasons you were. eren might’ve been a flirt, but a pretty girl like you made it hard to throw together even a decent line.

you clasped your hands together over the counter and spoke again, “it’s Dirty Pretty Things by Michael Faudet”.

there’s no way, there’s just no way you knew about his favorite poet. this had to have been a set up or something, cause there was just no fucking way.

“are you fucking serious?!” he spoke a bit too loudly and you reeled back confused. did you say something wrong?

he pulled you back gently by your hands and gave a light laugh before speaking again. “i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to scare you, but i’ve worked in here for a whole semester and nobody has ever mentioned him. he’s my favorite poet, so hearing you ask for his book was just a surprise s’all”.

at this moment, eren had become aware that he was lightly stoking your hand the entire time, and pulled back immediately after. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to touch-“

“no! it’s okay!! i do the same thing to other people all the time. trust me, i would’ve pulled away by now if i had felt uncomfortable”.

it was interesting to see this tough looking guy fan girl over a poet. it was something that brought a sense of familiarity to you, so you didn’t mind the little touch he gave you. it was actually quite nice.

by this time, eren’s cheeks had begun to show the slightest hint of pink. embarrassed by his own actions and your confession of comfortability around himself. instead of replying, he began to search up the book, afraid to make an ass of himself yet again.

“okay, so we do have the book, but for some reason it seems to be in the short story section instead of the poetry section, which is odd. i can walk you over there if you’d like.” he made a mental note to bring this up to armin since he was the last one to register the book back into the system.

you shook your head yes, and eren hopped over the counter, ring clad hands making a clank noise after being smacked against the hard wood.

the two of you walked side by side in a comfortable silence, and eren could smell your lavender perfume. he swore that it smelled just like the one his mother wore back when he was a small child and it made his heart clench. he didn’t know what it was about this moment that made him want to reach out and hold your hand, but he just did. he could see the small ring that sat on your pointer finger, light pink diamond in the center of the silver band. another reminder of his late mother, who always said that a dash of pink was needed in every outfit. he could feel his eyes get heavy, but he ignored the feeling, attempting to stay grounded in your presence.

it made him wonder what your life was like and if you had gone through anything similar. if you had cried over the loss of a loved one, if you had even cried at all. of course he knew that you have most likely cried at some point in your life, but he still wanted to know. he wanted to know if your insides were just as soft as your outside appeared. if the sage that adorned your beautiful skin was a reflection of the earthy soul that laid inside you.

he just had to know.

the two of you finally made it to the short story section, and your eyes finally hit the spine of the poetry book you had been searching for all day. lightly running to grab the book, you snatched it from the shelf and turned on your heel to look back at eren. your turn was followed by a semi loud snap, and you looked down to see that the gold buckle on your shoe had broken, disconnecting from one of its leather straps. although it wouldn’t truly harm the shoe in anyway, it was not a good feeling to know that you broke your shoe in front of a guy like eren.

“oh shit.” you said after noticing your shoe. you looked back up to see eren looking down as well, seeing your now broken shoe.

without thinking, he kneeled down and took a closer look at the broken buckle. grabbing both pieces, he could see that the buckle wasn’t fully broken and could be fixed with the help of a little sewing and leather glue.

he looked back up at you and spoke, “i can fix this if you want.”

your eyes widened a bit, “really?! a-are you sure?” god, did you really have to keep embarrassing yourself right now?

he laughed a bit at your stutter and stood back to his full height. now noticing that the top of your head hit perfectly in the space between his collarbones. had he hugged you, he could comfortably place his chin atop your head.

“of course i can pretty girl. just grab your book and follow me”, now there’s the flirt that eren knew himself to be.

it was your turn to feel your body heat up at his words and actions and wordlessly follow him. it wasn’t everyday that you got to feel doted on, so you wanted to bask in the moment before it was taken away.

the two of you got back to the service counter, and eren held open the little door that led behind the counter for you, opting out of jumping over the top this time.

he then led you back to a cozy little room that was behind the counter. it was littered with books and soft lighting from outside instead of heavy fluorescents. there was a small table and chair that was placed right in front of a window that had a sewing machine connected to it. eren had walked over to a corner of the room, and came back with what appeared to be leather glue and a magnifying glass.

eren walked back in front of you a kneeled down towards your shoe again. you stood there looking up, thinking he was inspecting the shoe once again, before you felt a light tap on your thigh.

“you gonna lift your foot up so i can take your shoe off, or do i gotta?” he said with a smirk.

“uh no, i’ll do it.” being alone with him in this little room was not doing anything good for your imagination.

he slowly slid the shoe off your foot and stood up again. he sat down at the table and began to take the buckle fully off of the shoe while you stood there awkwardly. he looked over and noticed your apprehension to follow, so he waved his hand over and gestured for you to sit on the table.

“are you sure it’s safe for me to sit on the table?”

he tilted his head to the side and it was now that you noticed his glasses that looked identical to yours. “yeah…? why wouldn’t it be?”

you rubbed your hands together and thought about how you would say this. it’s nerve wracking enough having a watch this hot guy fix your shoe, but to walk over and sit on the table he’s working on and having his hands be so close to your bare legs didn’t seem to calm you down at all.

“umm…. i mean, the table just doesn’t look sturdy enough and there also isn’t enough space for you to work and for me to sit. is there like another chair or something because i really don’t wanna get in your way, and i just-“

“hey hey hey….. calm down… whaddya mean the table doesn’t look sturdy enough? like your gonna break it from sitting on it?”

you froze. of course the aspect of him being hot was making you nervous, but you couldn’t ignore the elephant in the room anymore. you knew you were a bigger girl, and it made certain social situations unnerving to you. watching your skinny friends sit on others, tables, and just anything they could was a luxury that you could never seem to grasp. you loved your body and what you looked like, but the lingering fear of being the biggest person in the room never seemed to go away. hence why you always thought that guys like eren wouldn’t look your way, much less offer to fix your shoe.

“i mean yeah… i’m not particularly light and there’s a whole sewing machine on it. the table could break and i would feel really bad-“

and then, you were in the air.

eren hated hearing about girls’s insecurities, especially ones concerning their weight. no, this wasn’t in an inconsiderate and douche bag kind of way, but in a more “your absolutely perfect” kind of way. so what if you were a bigger girl, and so what if your body looked different from the next girl’s. what mattered to eren was you, and only you. and this went for every girl he messed with.

he carried you over and set you down on the table. the two of you facing each other, both of your jaws tight and eyes set. his from a twinge of anger, and yours from embarrassment.

“who cares about your weight? you sit when you need to sit no matter what’s left to sit on. if i thought you were going to ‘take up too much space’ i would’ve worked standing and let you have the chair” he said, making quotations around “take up too much space”.

he didn’t give you a chance to speak as he sat down and went back to working on your shoe. the two of you sat in silence with the occasional whir or the sewing machine.

he thought he had went too far. touching and holding you without asking. it made him feel icky, not wanting to make you uncomfortable when all he wanted to do was prove to you that you had nothing to worry about. although he admits he could’ve went about it a different way, eren was more of an action person rather than words. it’s why he kept touching you, trying to let you know that he wanted to get to know you and to hold onto you.

“thanks” you spoke softly.

eren’s head snapped up upon hearing your voice. although he wasn’t done with your shoe, so what could you be thanking him for?

“this is probably one of the most interesting first encounters i’ve had with someone i first met. and not because i’m a clutz or because of the touching, but because you seem like you genuinely meant what you said about my weight. a lot of people sugar coat it and say ‘well you’re still beautiful’. like, no shit i’m still pretty, but at the end of the day, i’m fat and that’s not something u can ignore. so i don’t know, thanks for not ignoring it i guess”

he went back to working and you thought you had screwed everything up. so you sat in silence until you heard the chair slide out from under the table and him stand back in front of you.

“people have always equated being bigger to being ugly. i’ve never understood why it happens, but it does. my mom taught me that women are beautiful, that people are beautiful regardless of weight, shape, and everything else that follows suit. i don’t even know your name, yet i can tell you that you’re a gorgeous girl, and i didn’t fix your shoe or pick you up just to show that i’m a nice guy. i did it because i wanted to. i did it because i want to keep smelling your lavender perfume and seeing the way that green pops off of your skin. i did it in hopes of getting your number so i can take you out sometime after this because i don’t know how i could let a girl like you slip out of my fingers just because of something as minuscule as your weight.”

you looked into those pretty green eyes and smiled. in your 19 years of living, nobody had ever really spoke to you like him, especially upon first meeting you. this was the type of thing that happens in books and movies. not in real life. this was the type of thing you fantasized about at three am while you watched the nighttime breeze blow the trees around. something straight out of your imagination.

“yn my name is yn, and i would love to give you my number.” you said with a smile.

eren gave a toothy grin and pulled his phone out of his pocket. he went straight to the contact app and the two of you swapped phones.

“no fucking way, you’re eren??!!” you said with surprise.

“uhh… yeah??? did i do something wrong??”

you shook your head no and smiled hard. “i’m also friends with armin! he and i were talking the other day about guys. he was talking about how he wanted to introduce me to someone that he thought i would click with. his best friend eren”.

there was a small sparkle in eren’s eye as he immediately understood why his friend oh so desperately needed him to cover his shift today. armin surely was one sneaky fucker and eren had to give him that.

after sliding your shoe back on, eren finally checked out your book, and the two of you texted as you made your way back to your dorm. the two of you met up later that night and talked until your throats hurt from laughing and cheeks were sore from smiling.

and now 5 years later, eren lays next to you in your king sized bed, his arms wrapped around your body, enveloping you in him and his body heat. his legs wrap around your own like another blanket while his hair sprawls over his pillow in a mess of curly brown hair. something that came about after finally showing him how to correctly take care of the hair he once thought was “bone straight, but a little frizzy”.

eren who always wakes up before you just to untangle his limbs from yours and watch you sleep like the princess you are. eren who opens the blinds just a bit to see how the sun hits your gorgeous face. eren who buys you every green thing he sees because you and green are synonymous in his mind. eren who makes sure you eat three times a day no matter where the two of you are. eren who cleans after you cook. eren who always makes sure to bake you your favorite muffins every once in a while when you’re feeling a little down. ;)

the same eren who acknowledges all of you, every nook and cranny that gives him something new to discover. every mole, freckle, stretch mark, and scar that just becomes another place for him to kiss. every roll, every pound you gain, lose, or maintain that just becomes another place for him to caress and love all over again each and everyday.

the eren jeager who holds you in his hands, wraps his fingers around your body, and pulls you into him just to remind you of how perfect you are and always will be.

[a-soul-full-of-stars]

(Because I couldn’t choose just one)

tucking a strand of hair behind your partner's ear :3

Thank you for the ask, @umbralaether ! This one got away from me a little bit..

Tucking a strand of hair behind your partner's ear

A warm breeze blows through the darkened streets of Kugane, setting the lanterns that line the streets dancing on their strings. It is a pleasant evening, the darkening skies free of cloud or mist, the air alight with the sounds of merriment. But Yugiri can’t help but feel tense, despite the happy atmosphere.

For what feels like the tenth time that hour, she checks her outfit. It is new, crafted specifically for the occasion. The tailors had grumbled at the lack of time to put it together but some encouraging words from Lord Hien (not to mention some stern glances from Lady Muireann) had soon gotten them working swiftly. The results are lovely, a silk kimono adorned with a print of pink chrysanthemums secured by a wide yellow and white obi. There is no denying the craftsmanship or dedication that must have gone into their making, and yet Yugiri cannot relax. How long has it been, since the last time she wore something that didn’t have a trace of armour within it? Even at official functions, she wears chainmail under her robes. She attends as Lord Hien’s bodyguard after all. But tonight, Lord Hien has insisted- no chainmail, and absolutely no daggers. She is under strict instruction that tonight she is not a shinobi prepared for battle; she is simply a young woman meeting a young man for a pleasant evening.

Her shoulders tense at the thought. A far more dangerous assignment.

Match isn’t running late, but still she checks the watch in her pocket. Ten minutes to go until the appointed hour. Time slows to an agonizing pace as around her, revelers preparing for their own nights on the town gather about the aetheryte. Strangers pop into existence then hurry to embrace those happily awaiting their arrival.

Suddenly, a familiar figure begins to materialize, floating in the fashion of one who has teleported a great distance. Yugiri recognizes him immediately; the unmistakable blonde hair, streaked with white patches that glow as they reflect the aetheryte’s light; long ears and tail that twitch and curl with a life of their own; and that scarred, smiling face with those beautiful crystal-blue eyes. Match Munroe, in person.

She feels the blush that has chased her all week return to her cheeks as he blinks and shakes the last of the teleportation’s dizziness from his shoulders. His eyes settle on her. What does he see? Does it please him, the way she has dressed and changed for the evening?

He’s changed too; no pauldrons on his shoulders or longsword on his hips. Instead, a white shirt, ornately stitched and very closely fitting at his chest and waist. Across his shoulders hangs a dark velvet half-cape, with matching dark britches on his legs. He looks good, a small, unfamiliar voice in Yugiri’s head whispers, her blush deepening as his eyes meet hers. His smile widens. “Yugiri!” His voice is as bright and bold as ever.

She smiles nervously back at him, bowing in welcome. “It is an honour to see you again, Warrior of Light- Match,” she corrects, catching herself mid-sentence. “Welcome back to Kugane.”

“It’s good to be back,” Match grins. He seems a little shaken, his hands fidgeting with his hair and smoothing his clothes. The effects of travelling such a distance? Or is she missing something? Are they supposed to embrace, Yugiri wonders? Would that be too forward? Too presumptuous? She feels her flush deepen further as she looks away, suddenly at a loss for words.

Match grimaces internally. Barely here five minutes and already screwing this up. “It’s good to be back.” What the hell kind of opening line was that? Though thinking of anything smooth or clever or funny to say is proving difficult. How is he supposed to be smooth, when here’s Yugiri even more beautiful than he remembers? Her silken robes cling to her, flowing like water as she moves, shimmering like stars. Her hair and horns, adorned with jewels, make him reach for words beyond his own vocabulary. She is stunning. And here he is, a scarred little boy in an itchy shirt he’d had to have made for the occasion because he hadn’t the wherewithal to have pick up some nice clothes during the past few years.

He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair again, ignoring the cold sweat on his back. “So, um. It’s good to see you again.”

“And you,” Yugiri smiles shyly. “Your journey was not too taxing I hope?”

“Nah, after you’ve hopped between worlds a couple of times, teleportation seems pretty easygoing.”

“O-of course… My mistake.”

She is still blushing. Was that the wrong thing to say? In his head, Match curses himself. He probably just sounded like he was showing off. Gods but he’s even more out of his depth here than he had feared.

Yugiri fights to bring her blushing cheeks back under control. This is ridiculous. She is a shinobi, a master of body and mind. Why is she being so undone by the mere presence of this… This boy?

Maybe it’s  the easy smile, or the way his eyes seem even brighter than she’d remembered. The way he looks like a storybook hero had just stepped out of a children’s tale. Suddenly the silks feel very hot and heavy, like she’s draped herself in curtains.

Match looks about them, casting his gaze around the square. “It’s been a while since I had a meal here. Is that small sushi place above the market still open?” In his Eorzean accent, the Doman words take on a stretched-out feel, sooh-sheee.

Yugiri looks about herself, grateful for the distraction. “I must admit I’m a little unfamiliar with Kugane nightlife. It’s been a while since I’ve been away from the Enclave myself.”

“That’s good,” Match says, grinning at her. “This way it’s more of an adventure!”

“I… Yes,” Yugiri smiles, unable to resist the simple charm of the notion. “I suppose it is.”

Match quickly turns towards the market street to hide the pained expression crossing his face. More of an adventure? What kind of nonsense was that? Still, being able to focus on finding the damn restaurant again from his own foggy half-memories of his previous trips will at least stop him from saying more stupid things. They start across the bridge to the markets, just another couple in the crowd.

For a moment Match considers taking her hand, the thought making his heart beat so fast surely she can hear it through his shirt.

But no, better not. Wouldn’t want to seem pushy.

Wait, he’s supposed to keep the conversation going, right? Silence is bad, he’s sure of that! In a panic Match desperately reaches for something to say. “So how have you been? How’s the Enclave doing?” It is better than nothing.

“I am well, thank you,” Yugiri smiles again, apparently not noticing, or at least not perturbed, by her companion’s agitation. “It has been a busy time. It seems we are constantly preparing to host one dignitary or another, ready to sign up to the Othard Alliance.”

“Aha, strength in numbers! Clever.”

“Of course. We have seen the effectiveness of your homeland’s united front after all.”

They exchange a few nothings more back and forth as they strolled on. At first, the conversation is flowing more like a brackish Twelveswood river than a clear stream; but it is enough to cast a spell of calm so that, for the most part, a casual glance would suggest they were at perfect ease. They walk and talk, the discomfort fading at least a little. Match even manages a joke or two as they speak of the fine weather of late, Yugiri’s sweet laugh ringing out like a peal of bells. Only the stiffness of Match’s shoulder’s or the way Yugiri’s arms shake just a little as she checks her kimono betray the building tension of possibility between them. Their arms sit at each other’s sides, hands open, fingers almost touching, though neither daring to cross that impossible chasm of inches.

Even with the setting sun, the markets still throng with folks going about their business. While some stalls have closed for the day, some are only just opening, hoping to take advantage of the evening revelers by offering sweet treats and rice wine by the cup. Nearby, a young man buys a flower from a smiling stallhand, before placing it in the hair of his companion. Match glances at Yugiri, his mind wandering. How would she feel if he bought a flower for her, or placed it in her long, beautiful hair? She catches his eye, smiling shyly. A blush warms his cheeks.

To Hell with it. He hurried to the flower-seller. “What’s wrong,” Yugiri calls from behind him.

“One please,” Match asks, in shaky Doman. The seller blinks, then smiles kindly recognizing the young M’iquote’s intentions as Yugiri approaches,.

“If I may,” the seller replies, carefully selecting a wide-petaled flower with a deep purple tone fading to streaks of yellow at the very tips, “this, I think, will suit the young lady perfectly.”

“Thank you,” Match says, fumbling some gil into the sellers hands and gingerly taking the flower for himself. He turns to Yugiri, his face flushing furiously now.

Yugiri watches, concerned, as Match turnstowards her. Is something wrong? He’d taken off so suddenly after that moment’s quiet. Does he sense danger?

All of a sudden, Match is very close to her, his hand reaching up to the side of her face. She feels her blush return as his fingers brush her cheek and horn, his gaze tracing a triangle across her eyes, her lips…

She feels him gently tuck her hair behind her ear, leaving something nestled with it. “There.” Yugir reaches up, feeling silken petals laying against her brow.

“If I may, my lady,” the stallhand calls. She turns to see the smiling Higanshen holding a small mirror aloft. She glances at her reflection. A wide purple crocus now sits in her hair. Match has bought her a flower. She cannot help but smile again at the gesture. “I… Thank you, Match.”

Match smiles back nervously. He’s still stood very close to her, looking down at her, those perfect crystal-blue eyes aflame in the lantern-light. “You like it? I didn’t want to be too forward-”

She raises a hand to quiet him. “It’s lovely. I’m very grateful.” She bows just a little.

Suddenly she feels his hand under her chin, gently lifting her eyes to meet his once again. “Hey,” he murmurs, voice gentle but serious, a tone she has not heard from Match since the night they’d spent together in Yanxia. “You don’t ever need to bow to me, Yu. Never.”

Yugiri’s eyes widen. The blush that had until now simply crept its way across her now stampedes in its return. “I- O-of course. I will… I will remember that. Match.”

He smiles down at her, a smile as soft and warm as a bedside candle on a midwinter’s night. For a moment they stand there still very close, his hand lingering on her cheek. Yugiri feels her heart pounding. It had been brave of him, reckless and impulsive true, but brave nonetheless, to run and grab the opportunity to surprise her like this. Well, she can be bold too.

With a hand that shakes just a little, she reaches up and grasps Match’s hands, her fingers knotting tightly through his. “Shall we keep going?”

Match blinks, caught off-guard by the hand now in his. Her skin is soft, her grip firm, as if daring him to question it. Once again, his words have been robbed from him. He blinks again stupidly. “I, um. What?”

Yugiri smiles inwardly. It is… Fun… To know she can seemingly leave him as at as much of a loss as he does her. “You were taking me to dinner, yes?”

“Oh. Oh! Yes! Of course! Um. It’s this way, I think!”

The stallhand watches as the young couple turn and walk away, their hands still clasped. As they walk, the Au ra maiden pulls the boy closer, pressing herself to his side. A few words trail back, caught in the evening breeze. “Yu? Really?”

“I don’t know, it just came out!”

Soft laughter rings out once more. The stallhand shakes his head, grinning. Oh to be young again. He whispers a quiet prayer of thanks to the Kami, for warm nights, blossoming flowers and the fierce, gentle courage of first loves.

...

Thanks again for the ask! I love writing this pairing, I think WoL/Yugiri is a bit of a slept-on ship ^^

[dragynkeep]

Please if you want to, do the Amity Arena Summer Beach outfits so we can talk about positive things too, because goddamn the atlas outfits. Jeepers.

Really, Amity Arena has outfits all across the board. Some are great, others are average, and then there’s some that are just trash. The Summer Beach outfits are actually pretty cute for the most part, and I really like them. 

ALT

This is honestly really cute. I love the booty shorts, the tied shirt with the crop top underneath, even the sandals are adorable. It’s suitable for a beach outfit, it’s a Yang outfit without a doubt, and even the X octopuses are so adorable. 

Even though she has very little of her colour on the outfit, which for a RWBY character is still a negative, it’s not a huge deal for an alternative outfit on a mobile game. The colouring is still nice together, and I like how she looks in red. It really suits her. 

ALT

He looks so dumb and I love it. This is what Ironwood wears on the few holidays he allows for himself.

The Hawaiian shirt, the shorts, the little sandals, I love it. The blue of his shirt works with the red and green details, and the overall colour scheme is pretty coherent while still keeping to his established colour. It’s a cool colour palette, and his prosthetics being clear on show is nice to see so normalised. It’s also great for people like me to see how far his prosthetics go on his body.

Also his gun is a water gun and that’s great. 

ALT

Nora’s is a bit more average for me. The pufferfish swimming cap is a little dumb for me, and the colours together is kinda gross looking. I really would’ve prepared pink and white together, at least keep to the established colour scheme with some nicer colours.

I love his little floaties. It’s such overkill and great for Neptune with his little fear of water. He’s safe from drowning. 

I like that the red lifejacket is similar to his usual red jacket, and these colours work well with his bright blue hair and orange snorkel goggles. The only thing I’m not a fan on is the green on his swimsuit, it might work more with more blue, just to let the colour go through the outfit. 

She is so adorable. 

I love the swim shirt and shorts together, the red background works with the bright white emblems and white shorts, especially with the small red accents. With the shoes, it helps to keep her red throughout the outfit, especially without the red cape behind her. 

I love the goggles on her head. The blue is nice contrast with the red, and works against the colour of her dark hair. 

Adorable. 

It’s a bit difficult to see with how she’s posed, but the swimsuit with the purple and white works with the black shorts, especially with her long black hair. The bow and it’s design works similarly as well, since the bright colours help the bow stand out against the black hair. 

The goggles are a bit much in combination with the bow, either have the goggles or the bow, having both just clutters the top half. 

This is such a cute design. 

I love the hair changed into a ponytail over the shoulder, and the straw hat is such a cute accent for her. She looks like the type to carry a big bag of everything to the beach, especially sunscreen. Atlas doesn’t get sun. 

The blue dress is such a cute design, and the gradient to lighter blue and white is so pretty. It contrasts with her pale skin, and while I’d like some more white to show through, I do think this blue is very pretty.  

Sun is the perfect dude for a beach outfit. He looks so cute.

It’s a very casual wear, and the blue looks so good with the yellow of his hair and the white of his hat, it fits with his established colour scheme and fashion. The little waves on his shorts are cute and add a bit of details to the little clothing he has.

Plus, I think his eyes are black like they were originally, which I appreciate. It’s very neutral with his otherwise bright colour scheme. 

Her skin is so desaturated. Ashy crocodile. 

The skin tone aside, it’s a cute outfit otherwise. The green and black work well together, especially with her desaturated skin. I love the tock on her shorts and little decal on her chest, and the sunglasses on her head are cute. 

[momolady]

Werepoodle Boyfriend: Padraic 2

Sometimes you marry a poodle.

Female Main Character x Male Monster

I greatly admired my mother’s wedding gown when I was a child. I used to sneak into her closet with my sisters when we were little, try on her clothes, walk around in her shoes, and play pretend until she came to shoo us away. Sometimes we would try to imagine what our weddings would be like. I never had a clear image of what my wedding day would be. I had more thoughts about being a spinster or widow than I did a loving wife.

Since I had no ideas for a wedding, it was easy to let Padraic take the lead. He asked me about colors, food, table settings, and the like, but for the most part I enjoyed that he was taking the lead. It allowed me to sort through my ideas for future writing. After he had retrieved my manuscript from my former publishers, he insisted I complete it. Due to mockery I received from my exposure, I am having trouble igniting the old spark. I have written countless pages, torn them all up and thrown them into the fireplace so Padraic can’t see my failure.

I suppose the news of my future husband’s nature is a bit of a shock too. Revealing to me he was a werepoodle took courage. I could have reacted badly, even violently, but instead I laughed myself inside out. I don’t know why it didn’t bother me. I suppose it only stoked my curiosity. If werepoodles are genuine creatures, what else could exist? Ghouls? Dragons? It is frightening to contemplate, but exciting all the same.

My mother and sisters are invited to visit for the fitting of my wedding gown. It is nice to see them, and I greatly appreciate Padraic summoning them for such a thing. My sisters are just as tickled as I was upon meeting Padraic, and greet me with a flurry of questions when we are alone.

“He’s very spoiled, and I suppose that’s how he has remained a bachelor,” I tell them. “You have seen how difficult he can be.”

“But so pretty,” one sister sighs.

“Which is probably why I let him get away with it for now. And I do think he genuinely likes me.” The wedding gown is very soft pink with hints of pale yellow in the trim. I have to admit the color suits very well, and I am not offended by the shape of the gown, much more well-let-out than I expected. My mother’s wedding gown had been pale green and yellow, and I feel connected to my mother when I wear this one.

Padraic goes into seclusion before the wedding, to prepare some grand romantic gesture. I tell him it is silly, considering the transactional nature of our union. “Let me have my fun,” he said with that boyish, beautiful smile, and I welcome his kiss on my fingers. “I have ordered a beauty regimen for you. Take full advantage of it, because it will have to last the entire honeymoon.”

Padraic is being extremely secretive about the honeymoon. It mattered not to me where we go or what we do, because I am no longer welcome in most social circles. I am powdered, oiled, fluffed and coiffed to the very edge of reason

The wedding itself is beautiful, as is Padraic, and my awe with his loveliness is such that I almost forget he is to become my husband. He serves our guests wine made from the fruits of his orchard. We feast on cakes and dance. Due to his limp, our dances were slow and I prop him up most of the time. It is still a wonderful evening, and I am surprised to find myself looking forward to our wedding night.

Once we are in our chambers, I do feel nervous. My stomach is in knots, my knees feel weak, and I haven't a clue what to do with my hands. Padraic pours himself more wine as he loosens his collar, and drinks while observing me still standing at the door. “You can come in. You don’t need to stand there.”

I take a small step. “I am simply undecided where to go first.”

Padraic smirks. “You have written many cursed wedding nights in your books. I am surprised you have no clue what to do now.”

“Is this one cursed?”

He sets his glass aside, removing his ascot so his neck is bare. “Not yet, at any rate.”

I look at my feet. “I know this night is important, but I must admit I have no clue what to do.”

His gloved fingers slip under my chin and he lifts my head to look at him. “I am not comfortable being naked around anyone. So neither do I.” His hand slides down, taking hold of mine.

“Is anyone?” I chuckle nervously.

Padraic sits on the edge of the bed, still holding my hand. “My face is all I have.”

I arch a brow in confusion. “Surely not.”

“I can hide myself with clothes, with manners and grace,” he sighs. “But I cannot hide when I am bare.”

I kneel onto the floor beside him and place my cheek upon his knee. “You showed me the other side of yourself. You were brave then.”

“I can still hide with that side of myself,” he whispers. His eyes are distant, reflecting more golden in the candlelight. “I cannot hide in the carnal embrace.”

“I do not want you to feel forced,” I tell him. “ If we need to become closer before you feel safe, then it does not bother me.”

“I want to,” he says. “I want to so badly. But I do not want you to think me hideous.”

I look up at his face, which is not angry but overwhelmingly sad. I sit up and place a kiss upon his cheek. Tears roll from his beautiful eyes and he leans into my touch. “I want your love. But I could not bear you calling me ugly or deformed,” he weeps.

I give him more kisses, pressing affection into those soft, pink lips. His tears continue to fall and I try to catch each one. I sit beside him on the bed, letting him cry and holding him. I cup his cheek in my hand and he looks into my eyes. “I have no idea what you are afraid of, especially when the beast you can become was shared so easily.”

“My father hated me,” he whispers bitterly. “And he showed me as much.”

The scar on his ankle - I had assumed it was an injury from some accident. Perhaps I was wrong. “You are my ally, my friend. In this marriage we are co-conspirators. I do not hate you, and in fact I am learning to adore you.”

He whimpers. “I can’t...”

I kiss him softly. “Then we will sleep tonight.” I stand up and smooth my hands down my wedding gown. “Change your clothes and get comfortable. I will do the same. When you come back, we will lie down and sleep, or we can talk through the night. No one needs to know how we share our bed.”

He looks up at me, eyes red from tears and cheeks damp. His nose is like a primrose. He rises from the bed, taking hold of his cane again. “I am learning to adore you too.”

Before he goes into the adjoining room to change, he undoes all the buttons on my gown as well as loosen my corset for me. It is perhaps the most intimate I have felt with him. Once I change into my nightgown, I brush out my hair, taking out all the pins and baubles. I am still brushing when Padraic comes back in, and I watch him in the mirror as he hesitates in the doorway before climbing into the bed. I finish and stand, but when I approach the bed he holds a hand up. “Stop. Just wait.”

His hair is loose, a sight I have never seen before. Now that I think about it, he has never seen me with mine down either. “What’s wrong?” I ask.

He takes a breath. “I want to look.”

How dare he say something so horribly romantic. “Padraic!” I laugh and look aside.

“No, no,” he says sternly. “Look at me.”

I hesitantly lift my eyes back to his. His gaze is firm but his cheeks are bright and pink, his lips are parted. “Now,” he whispers. “Come to bed.”

I carefully lift the covers and slip into bed. I lay my head on the pillow, looking at Padraic beside me. We are silent as we look at one another, and I feel a strong need to touch and kiss him, but I restrain myself. His long lashes flutter and fall against his cheeks. He reaches out, taking hold of my hand. “I will be a husband eventually, Georgette.”

I squeeze his hand. “Enough has been said, Padraic. You need not have the last word.”

He smiles and lifts his eyes to mine. “Do not think that just because we are married now, you hold dominion over me.” He moves close enough to me I can feel his warmth under the blankets.

“Not yet, at any rate. I plan on holding some eventually.” I, too, move closer and I place my hand on his chest. “I will have you fetching like one of the dogs.”

He smirks, then brushes his fingers through my hair. “Not on your life, little wife.”

We fall asleep, and when we awake we depart for our honeymoon. We go to the coast, where the ocean makes the air cold. His house there is pale gray stone, blending into the ocean and rocks surrounding it. “This was my mother’s,” he tells me as he helps me down from the carriage. “She was sent here before she died.”

“It’s so quiet here,” I murmur. “Even through the crashing of the ocean, it almost feels silent.”

Padraic holds my hand. “That is why I brought us here. I wanted my mother to meet you.” He leads me away from the house, to a quiet pasture where a solitary tree stands. He kneels before the tree and bows his head. “My father tried everything to cure me,” he murmurs. “But he sent my mother away, and forced her into solitude here.”

I place my hand on his shoulder as he sits over her grave. I do not know what to say, so I stay quiet.

“I burned down his home when he was gone, and built something I could be proud of.” He looks up at me with watery eyes. “I swear I will be better than him.”

I help him to stand and kiss his cheek. “It’s cold. Let’s get inside and warm ourselves before we get ill.”

“Yes, of course.” He takes hold of my arm as we walk back.

Even though the house is small, it is still as grand in decor as the main estate. Padraic builds a fire in the bedroom while I unpack my things, and I find my manuscript at the top of my luggage. “Did you pack this?” I ask.

“I want you to write again. I know you have been struggling,” Padraic replies. “I thought the change in atmosphere would help you.”

I pout slightly. “You knew?”

He nods. “The paper was going missing.”

I smile sweetly at him. “I am sorry. I don’t know what is wrong. I can’t find my spark.”

“The harder you blow on a spark, the more likely it is to dim,” Padraic says thoughtfully. “You must breathe gently to urge it to grow.”

“You keep surprising me with your shockingly sweet phrases.”

Padraic smiles. “Only because I want that novel for my very own.”

Days go by. The sea is dark and gloomy, stirred by cold winds and rain. I enjoy my time with Padraic, but I try to write as much as possible. Although I still struggle, I try to be patient. Finally, one day, the clouds are limned by sunlight, which rises in a golden haze from the water and dances on the waves. A warmth comes into the house, and the spark inside me returns. I spend the day completing the manuscript. By the middle of the night, I am done, and I run to Padraic to show him the pages.

He is in bed but I wake him with triumph and kiss him, showing him the bundle of new pages in my hands. “Padraic! It is done! I finished it! I finished!” I thrust the pages into his hands.

“Is that what you were doing all day?” He looks through the pages, hair disheveled and eyes still bleary with sleep. “Georgette! That is wonderful!”

I throw my arms around him. “It came back! Just as you said!” I laugh happily. “Oh, Padraic! Thank you!” I kiss him again. My jubilant pecks become harder and more demanding. His lips meet mine in hunger, and his fingers claw at me in need. I hold his face between my palms, moaning against his lips as I am brought into his lap. Is this passion? Are we going to consummate our wedding? My thoughts are many and scrambled. I have to remind myself to breathe as the kisses become longer and wetter.

“Wait!” Padraic begs for breath. “Can I read it?”

I am breathing raggedly. “Now?” He shrugs but does not let me go.

“Padraic,” I gulp. “If you are comfortable, I would like to see where this is going.”

He averts his eyes, lowering his lashes onto his cheeks again. “Georgette, I would like to as well. But I am still afraid.”

I kiss him again. “I cannot ask you to bury your fear, but I would like to hold you until it goes away.”

Padraic’s lips brush against my chest while his hands work on undoing the buttons. He pulls away my clothes, kissing bare skin, and looks into my eyes before laying me down. His fingers trail along my flesh, making me shiver. I see him trembling as he tries to remove his nightclothes. “You don’t have to...”

“I don’t want to be afraid with you.” He takes off his nightshirt, but holds his arms close to his body. I see scars on his wrists, his shoulders, his sides.

I sit up and wrap my arms around him, pressing my bare body to his. “I’ll cover you,” I whisper. “You can wear me to hide.” His back, too, is covered in countless pockmarks, incisions along the ribs, thicker scars along his thighs. “Wrap me around you like a second skin.”

Padraic buries his face against my shoulder. “Georgette, that sounds terrifying,” he laughs.

I lift his face to look at me. “You’re beautiful, Padraic.”

“Still?” His voice quivers.

I smile. “Always.”

He wipes his eyes and wraps his hands around my waist. He dips his head down, kissing between my breasts. I run my fingers through his hair, leaning my head back so his lips have more skin to touch. He lays me down again, pressing his body against mine. It feels luxurious to have his weight upon me. He kisses my neck, and I feel teeth. “Oh,” I gasp.

“Did it hurt?”

“No, I...” I clear my throat. “I have written about bites so many times, I did not think it would feel so good.”

He laughs against my skin, licking before biting again. “If you wish for sharper teeth, I can certainly give them to you.”

I stroke my hands down his back. “Do you mean the beast?”

He moans into my ear. “Would you even like such a thing?”

“Would you?”

Padraic looks into my eyes. “I’m much larger in that form. Everywhere.” I bite my lip and grin and he arches his brow at me.  He pinches my cheeks with his fingers. “I do not like that look upon your face, wife. I might have to bite it off.”

“You’ll have to change your shape to do it.”

He kisses me one last time before rising off the bed. He closes the curtains as the change takes hold. Once he has transformed, he returns to the bed, heavy, furred, and growling. “I did not imagine you wanting this,” he breathes.

“My husband, can I confess that I think I may want all of you?” I wrap my arms around his neck. “Beast and beauty.”

His cold nose nuzzles between my breasts. Sharp teeth drag against skin, and he bites at my ribs. I whimper and moan in the same breath. He flips me over so my belly is against the bed and bites my shoulder and back, using his paw to hike up my hips. Positioning himself behind me, I feel him against my thighs. He’s hard and warm against my flesh, leaving a slick trail against the skin. “I’m so excited,” he chuckles. “I can barely breathe.”

I look over my shoulder at him. “Excited?”

“You want me. I did not think this would ever happen so easily. Yet, on our first night, you want all sides of me.”

“I’m very lucky I have a husband with such range.” I reach between my thighs and grab his rigid shaft in my palm. He moans loudly, thrusting his hips. I show him where to go, guiding him until he begins to slip inside. I bury my face into the pillow, whimpering at the twinge of pain.

“Georgette,” he breathes. “I’m inside, Georgette.”

“I feel it,” I moan through the pillow.

He angles my hips higher and grabs hold of my waist, pulling me back against him. I cry out, not from pain, but from surprise that I enjoy it so much. Padraic lays against my back, whispering into my ear before biting me. I arch my back against his belly, whimpering into the pillow. His body moves slowly, and he stills occasionally only to thrust again with more force. I enjoy the feeling of being filled by him. And when the final tremor comes over me, I am overwhelmed.

I wake in bed to see him reading beside me, poring over the final pages of my manuscript. “How can you stay awake like that?” I murmur weakly.

He smirks. “I am too overcome to sleep.” He looks at me and smooths the hair away from my face. “You stay the way you are. You need not worry about me.”

I rest my head on his thigh as he reads, and he strokes my hair between pages. Once he is done, he lays the manuscript aside and holds me in his arms. “How do you like it?” I ask.

“It is my favorite by far.” He kisses my neck and shoulder. “I cannot wait to hold it as a book.”

I sigh heavily. “That will never happen again, I am afraid. You will probably be the only one to ever read that book.”

“You forget, my wife - I get what I want.”

In the morning, I wake before he does and contemplate him in the light through the curtains. The scars on his body look surgical, and I touch a dark one at the center of his chest. The scars on his wrists look like the imprints of rope. They do not make him hideous as he believed. Rather, I think it helps me to see that my husband is human, beyond the werepoodle, beyond his spoiled behaviour. He is human and he hurts, and I will see everything from now on.

He wakes and flutters those beautiful lashes at me. A soft, shy smile appears on his face. “Don’t stare. It makes me feel strange.”

I pull the blanket up around him. “But I like looking at you.”

“I suppose someone has to,” he sighs heavily.

I kiss his cheek. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“I already told you my father tried to cure me. He had his doctor bury silver under my skin. I was given tonic injections, countless surgeries.” Tears float on the rim of his lashes. “But there was nothing he could do. I was born, and that was the curse.”

“Is that why he sent your mother away?”

“She meant nothing. I was his son, and it’s as simple as that,” he replies sadly.

“For how long did he torment you?” I ask.

Padraic looks into my eyes and I can see the emeralds inside. “Until he died,” he confesses. “I was sixteen.”

I take him into my arms. “Then for sixteen years, I will press love into this body.”

His hands grab hold of my back. “Can you last that long?”

“I adore you, so I will try,” I whisper to him. “Now, let me learn to love you.”

When we return home, he remakes a room into my sudy. He also gets a new dog just for me, which he trains to fetch him when I command it. I name the dog Gildi, and she sits in my lap as I write. He also gets a dog named Pepper, who comes to fetch me for him. Often, we use Gildi and Pepper to exchange notes, making them run back and forth as we have conversations on pieces of paper and note cards.

One day, Pepper brings me one such card. “Have you learned to love me yet?”

I return Gildi with a reply. “Have you learned to love me?”

Padriac steps into the room with Pepper in his arms and the note in his hand. “Georgette, my answer is yours if you have an answer for me.”

“Must you have the last word?” I smile.

“I get what I want,” he grins. He walks into the room and sets Pepper down. “So tell me your answer.”

“Padraic, my dear husband, the fact that I am willing to allow you the last word should be clue enough.” I cup his face between my palms. “But I will give you my answer fully. I have learned that I cannot stand a day without you, even when you are at your worst. I have learned a horrible lesson, and that is that I love you.”

Padraic grins smugly. “I knew it. I always get what I want.”

“You wanted me to love you?” I say with a smirk.

He bites my cheek, then kisses it. “Just as much as I love you.”

“Well, then, we both got what we wanted, didn’t we? Now, I want to see the beast. Can he come out?”

His eyes widen, and he licks his lips. “What for?”

I arch my brows at him. “You know why.”

[whorefordazai]

hi hi its me!! im just feeling really bad and holding my tears rn. can i get anything with aku/chuu/dazai, whoever u deem more fit! they are my comfort bbys. running away from home, even if its just for a night,maybe going to some rooftop or a drive at night. my situation at home isnt the best and i feel rly caged and anxious bc i don't have friends to go out with when my situation gets overwhelming so i just break down in my room haha. anyways, i hope this is good enough? just some comfort or validating words!! sending hugs to u rai, ilysm. thank u for doing this its basically therapy for me ajsbdhd ❤️🌷

I hope things get better for you bestie, love you <33

“Till forever falls apart”

ft. dazai x gn! reader

genre: fluff, comfort

wc: 1.5k (I think🥲)

synopsis: running away from home with dazai yup yup !! simply a big fat cliche but it’s my guilty pleasure of fluff 🌝 includes a lot of kisses, hand holding, and comfort 🧍‍♂️

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick the fucking tock.

The clock made no noise, but you imagined it did. After all, that was what usually happened when one planned to sneak out during ungodly hours of the night. Looking at the time, it read 3:54 am.

You couldn’t stay here for one more second.

Swiftly, yet quietly lifting off the covers from your body, you got up from bed, and made your way to the window. It wasn’t sunrise yet. The sky was still dark, the streets peacefully quiet. The street lamp flickered, the airy fog was light against the ground.

It was perfect.

It wasn’t perfectly planned—but knowing Dazai, it wouldn’t go completely wrong. Feeling suffocated and unable to stay home, you had spontaneously called him two hours prior, around 2 am. His disoriented sleepy voice had picked up the call.

“...Hm? Babe? What time is it...” Dazai’s delicate husky voice spoke through the phone.

You could almost imagine him letting out a yawn and stretching out in his futon, brown curls resting against his face, his eyes tearing up from the yawn. You mentally cursed yourself when a smile appeared on your lips from hearing the mere sound of his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Yeah, it’s 2 am. Listen I...” your words stopped before you could continue. You gulped. Would he even be up for this? Would he be up for running away?

Dazai seemed to notice your voice falter. He spoke more hushed this time. “Are you okay? Are you safe? Do you need me to get you?”

You stayed silent for a few seconds before exhaling.

“No...well, yes but no. And...no you don’t need to come get me. I just wanted to hear your voice, Osamu. Thanks—you can go back to sleep now.”

You bit your lip, your finger hovered over the hang up button.

“ADADADA WAIT!—“

You raised an eyebrow. Dazai’s voice now spoke louder, as if his tone was full of mischief. “Huh?”

“Darling, I wasn’t sleeping anyway. In what universe would Dazai Osamu be sleeping at 2 am? C’mon sweetheart—you know me better than that.” He chuckled.

Your breathe hitched for a second—and then you laughed. It was a quiet airy laugh. He’s right...what was I so worried about?

“Okay then,” you giggled, voice laced with a plan.

“What do say about running away with me at 4 am?”

“Why that is...MARVELOUS!! Running away is what I do best!”

You laughed again, still managing to keep a hushed voice. “Alright—then come pick me up at 4 am will you? 4 am sharp.”

“You got it, babe.” You could almost picture his devilish smirk and golden brown eyes glinting with mischief.

The clock now read 4:01 am. Dazai was definitely here.

You gulped as you opened the window in your room, careful not to make even the tiniest noise.

And there he was.

It was barely noticeable, but you could see Dazai’s figure between the dark shadows in the car. As you both made eye contact, a smile appeared on your lips.

Just to be cheesy, you blew him a kiss, and he dramatically caught—pressing his fingers to his lips.

Getting out of the window was the easy part—actually leaving without anyone noticing was going to be difficult. It would’ve been even more difficult if Dazai wasn’t here to help you.

“Hi.” You smiled, sitting down on the passenger seat next to him.

“Hi.” He smiled back. The two of you looked at each other for a few seconds, before Dazai moved closer and put a hand on your cheek, immediately locking lips with you.

Hands immediately wrapping around his neck, you smiled into the kiss. The butterflies in your stomach exploded when his hand wrapped around your waist, squeezing your hip. When his tongue brushed against your bottom lip, you breathlessly chuckled and pulled back.

“Hurry, let’s get out of here! We can continue this later~” You scratched the back of your neck, cheeks flushed pink.

“Off we go then!” He smirked, eyes looking forward and hands shifting the car gear.

And you were off.

Probably driving around seventy miles per hour, Dazai rolled down the windows and turned on the radio for some music. You grinned, hearing the sound of the breeze down the music.

“This is—why didn’t we do this sooner!?” You laughed, feeling the wind flush against your face. You looked over to Dazai, who had an equally huge smile on his face, his brown curls being swept back by the wind.

“Y/n—we’re about to drive through a tunnel. Peek your head out the car roof! I swear, it’ll feel amazing!” Dazai beamed, sliding open the car roof so that you would be ready.

“Huh?! Are you sure—”

“I’m very fucking sure!!” He laughed.

“OH—okay then!” A smirk appeared on your lips as you stood up and peaked out half your body through the roof.

It was fucking amazing.

The tunnel was brightly lit with yellow lights, the wind was blowing through your hair. In that moment...hell, you couldn’t even explain how you were feeling in this moment.

As the car stopped on a red light, you sat back down in your seat and closed the car roof. Dazai smirked. “That was cool, right?”

“Very fucking cool. Although, next time I’d like to do in your arms.” You smiled. He raised his eyebrows, and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

A sudden chill went through your body as the wind blew colder. You shivered, rubbing your arms up and down. You chuckled to yourself. I must’ve forgotten to grab a hoodie in all this rush…

“Here, put this on.” Dazai chuckled, leaning to the back seat and grabbing a black hoodie. You eyed him carefully, grabbing the hoodie he was handing to you.

Putting it on, you immediately felt a sense of warmth envelope your skin. Shivering once again, you hugged yourself. It smelled exactly like him.

“Thanks, Osamu…” you softly smiled. He glanced your way for a few seconds before nodding. “No problemo!”

“...No, seriously.” You lightly scoffed with a small smile on your face. You put your hand on his.

“Without you...I would’ve still been stuck there. You have no idea how much you’ve helped….”

Your words were stopped when you felt Dazai grab your hand and intertwine your fingers. He turned his head towards you, a smile on his lips. “I know...call me anytime, okay? I wanna see you all the time.”

You pressed a quick kiss on his lips, sitting back in your seat. Your eyes were practically lit up as you rubbed small circles on Dazai’s knuckles.

You felt simply...the only word to describe it was euphoric. The rush in your bones. It was so fucking cliche, running away with your boyfriend at 4 am.

It was so perfectly cliche that you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself.

“We’re here,” Dazai’s voice sang as he slowed down the car to a complete stop. You looked ahead—it was fairly dark, only a few street laps illuminating the building in front of you.

“An abandoned building…?” Your mouth opened, eyes a little wide.

“Yup! Now come on….” Dazai smiled, pulling your hood over your head and squeezing your face. He moved closer and pressed several kisses on your cheeks, nose, and forehead. Practically anywhere he could get access too.

“H-hey! that’s—a lot—of—kisses!!” You managed to say between breaths as he continued to kiss your lips every time you began to talk. Both his hands were squeezing your cheeks like a baby.

He suddenly laughed, the soft grip on your cheeks now turning into a caress. Dazai’s thumb rubbed soft circles against your cheek. He seemed to quiet down, but he was now staring into your eyes

“Uh...are we gonna go inside or…?” You raised an eyebrow, gently tucking a piece of his hair behind his ear. It was soft, just like how you remembered it to be.

“Yeah...let’s go.” He smirked, hands leaving your face and opening his own door to get out of the car. You got out a second after him, feet hitting the soft dirt.

Dazai suddenly clasped your hand in his, pulling you with him as he dashed to the entrance. Your eyes flew open. “W-wait! Dazai, you seem really excited—“

“No time to speak, darling—were on the move!!” He laughed, pulling the both of you up endless stairs. You felt an enabling rush as Dazai ran ahead of you, hands held together. The buzz in your body, the euphoric smile that never left your lips.

“We’re here,” Dazai gasped out, coming to a halt. The breeze gently blew across the huge clearing. You rested your hands on your knees for a second, just to catch your breath.

“We’re...on the roof…?” You bit your lip, suppressing the huge idiotic smile that was about to make its way onto your face. Dazai nodded, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“This is...beautiful.” The roof was dark, it was ghostly quiet. You could only see the city lights from across the railing. Dazai walked to the edge, hand still intertwined with yours.

He leaned against the metal bar, hands gripping the pole with a huge smile on his lips.

God, he looked so beautiful. His brown hair was gently flowing against the breeze, the bridge of his nose seemed to perfectly shape the rest of his face. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you smiled.

“You’re not gonna ask me to jump off the roof with you, hm?” You whispered as a joke. He glanced at you for half a second before wrapping his whole arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest.

“No...not today, darling.”

His eyes seemed glassy, but somehow the clearest you’d ever seen. You blinked a couple times, before finally settling your face back into his shoulder.

“You know,” he mumbled into your hair. “I look at you in a way I thought I could never look at someone.”

You stayed silent, both your hearts beating. He continued.

“I look at you, with love in my eyes. Love I didn’t know was in me...love I didn’t know I was capable of feeling.” He licked his lips with half lidded eyes. “I look at you with the love I thought I had lost.”

You buried your face deeper into his chest. “I love you so much, Dazai.” You whispered. He kissed the top of your head, humming in response.

“I wanna stay like this forever.” You mumbled, eyes suddenly becoming foggy, remembering you had no one back home.

“I know.” He softly whispered, kissing the top of your head.

“I wanna stay with you forever.”

“I know.”

“Just with you, Dazai. No one else.”

“I know.”

“But we can’t...it won’t last forever.”

“...I know.”

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your whole body, hugging you as if you were going to disappear. One of his arms circled your waist, while the other held the back of your head.

“Then we’ll stay like this—till forever falls apart.” You mumbled, inhaling his sweet scent.

He nodded, kissing the tip of your nose. “Till forever falls apart.”

a/n: a part of this was inspired by the movie perks of being a wallflower, I’m sure you can tell which part :)

tag list: @uwu-monster101 @14th-century-homosexual-spirit @dai-tsukki-desu @i4gumi @cross-crye @starglow-xx @ranposlover @bsdwhore @arimakii @malewifegirlboss @shadyteacup @smadhuman @knjksj0301 @neighborhoodfriendlysimp @rirk-ke @mushroomplantasia @luftdum @pickleisrandom @3-am-depression @its-chuuya-bitch @the-wholesome-ranpo

[lady-o-ren]

The Dig

You can read this on ao3 // HERE //

Suffolk, England

1939

“What's going on in Sutton Hoo, then that has you in such a hurry?”

James Fsaser reluctantly looked up from where his head had been braced on his leather satchel, clutched atop his knees, and gave the old ferryman a one-eyed stare.

“I've a job. Digging,” he swallowed, trying mightily to keep himself from retching as the wee boat he was in bobbed up and down like a mad carousel.

“You came all the way from Scotland to dig like a dog?” He laughed hoarsely, hawking up a wad of phlegm into the murky river water as he swung his oars.

“Ipswich,” Fraser muttered, turning a bit more green.

Ipswich Museum to be exact.

He'd been hired to help excavate a centuries old burial site located at a rural estate in Sutton Hoo, overseen by the archeologist, Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp. A woman much admired (or envied depending on the man) for her keen mind and boundless curiosity (and unrivaled stubbornness that often spiraled into outright defiance according to those same particular men) that had her uprooting half of Great Britain in pursuit of the secrets hidden beneath the mossy plains. And more often than not her instincts were right and another antiquity would be dusted off to be reborn again.

Fraser wasn't sure what he'd done to earn the right to work by her side but Christ, he wouldn't question how lucky he was.

The boat then suddenly coasted to an abrupt stop against the rivers side.

“Here we are, Mr. Fraser. All in one piece. And I thank you for keeping me boat and boots tidy,” said the old ferryman with a wink.

Fraser didn't bother with a retort, he was just happy that the world had blessedly stopped spinning and hopped onto wonderfully solid land.

Smoothing the wrinkles from his attire and fixing his father's old grey cap atop his head (taking special care to tuck in his dark ginger curls that always peeked out from just under the rim), he made his way down the brambled path that the old man said led to the big house. After a brief introduction with the owner of the estate, he was then directed to where he'd be working, and trotted past the trees and sprawling country green to an open field.

From afar, Fraser could see three burial mounds jutting from the earth, grassy topped with yellow dandelions sprouting all over.

But what made his breath catch was the sight of the woman he'd been so eager to meet.

She was surveying the site with her hands on her trousered waist looking like a general on the cusp of conquest. Sensing his approach, she turned away from her prize and future glory, her short curls bouncing and gleaming a rich shade of earth in the dewy sunlight, and met his gaze with her own.

Sharp with intelligence. Kindled with mirth. Shimmering like molten gold.

"A Dhia," Fraser whispered to the fragrant spring air, and took off his cap, twisting it between his hands that ached to trace and memorize every curve of the archeologist's face.

She waved him over seeing him linger and a terrible heat sprang to the young lad's face at having been caught staring at the beauty like a halfwit, and forced his legs to move. Prayed he didn't fall flat on his face.

"Hullo there," she greeted, and clasped her small hand to his, but there was nothing dainty about its grasp. Fraser could feel the years of hard-earned experience chiseled in her palm that held his hand firmly, letting him know exactly who he'd be working for.

It sent a thrill down his spine.

"I'm Dr. Claire Beauchamp. And you must be the very late Mr. Fraser I've been waiting for."

"Aye, and I beg yer pardon for that, ma’am," Fraser replied in earnest, detecting a subtle spike of irritation in her voice, seeing the annoyed flick of her brow. "The morning train was running late.” By three hours! “ Then I had to wait for the ferryman to take me across the river -" He'd been taking his "tea" in the pub " - all a lousy excuse, I ken, but I promise ye it willna happen again."

Beauchamp crossed her arms and tipped her head to the side giving Fraser a scrutinizing once over that made his throat bob and the blood in his heart to palpitate.

"Good," she smirked, nodding her approval from his noticeable discomfort. "If you're anything like how the stiffs at Ipswich Museum described we'll get along well."

He clenched his jaw at the mention of the museum, the cantankerous men who worked there. Especially a certain Dr. Randall, who valued a good cigar over the work of a “farm boy”.

"And what do they say of me, if I may ask?"

Beauchamp bit her full bottom lip (wonderfully pink Fraser bashfully noted), quirking wryly.

“Quite a lot depending on who you ask. From what I've gathered you're hardworking, painfully intelligent and have an innate knack for reading the earth. But that you're also highly unorthodox, difficult and the most insufferable Scotsman ever to step foot in Ipswich. So naturally I had to work with you."

He let out a tightly held breath and chuckled softly.

"Weel, who am I to argue wi' a reference like that. I'm passionate about my work and little else, apart from food and kin. And while I've never been disrespectful to reason, I haven't the patience for men who think a title is deserving of my unquestionable fealty."

"And why should you? The conviction of a Viking is something to be admired not belittled,” she praised, making Fraser glow. "I only wish I could've been there to witness how you earned the ire of half the museum.”

“I'm merely in the right and they the wrong, more often than not,” he shrugged.

“I'm just as terrible,” she proudly grinned. ”But I know we'll make a good team. We'll have to if we want to tackle this lot.”

She motioned her head at the site looming tall, brimming with excitement that spoke to Fraser's own spirit.

"If that's so then it'll be an honor working wi' ye, ma'am."

He shook her hand once more and thought he felt her thumb move against his knuckle, light and curious as a brush stroke.

//

Working with two assistants from her previous digs (the studious Jeremy Foster and the wide-eyed youth Elias Pound), Fraser and Beauchamp made great strides in plowing the core of the mound that was the larger of the three, even when logic argued that the dip in the middle meant thieves of the past had already plundered it's horde.

But Fraser's gut and bones told him that there was something different about this one.

Beauchamp had thought so too.

"There's something grand and marvelous here begging to be found. Don't you think? Can't you feel it?"

The deeper they dug only intensified that feeling.

As had his attraction to the irrepressibly brilliant Dr. Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.

However, after a fortuitous streak of good weather, the air started to blow with the sweet scent of rain and the leaves of the oak trees that dotted the lush clearing turned toward the skies, parched and longing.

"We have some time, I think, before the rain comes," said Beauchamp, gauging the skies westward still clear of thunderclouds.

Fraser leaned against his shovel in the hollow of earth he stood in, his dirt stained sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and could see the mad impulse to defy mother nature flash in her eyes.

"Usually I'd agree wi' ye, ma’am, but yer hair -" his mouth flicked upward in unbridled appreciation. "Is curling like a tumbleweed."

She pressed a dirt-flecked hand near her temple and felt the wild frizzy pushback of flyaway curls fallen loose from her twisted bun, springing around her face like a mane.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ,” she huffed. “Have I been like this all morning, Fraser?”

"Pretty much," he grinned, enjoying how her usual regal self pinked across her freckled cheeks and the wee scrunch of her nose.

But Fraser's smile faltered, catching himself for a fool, and averted his attention down to the soil where his heart had fallen. Writhed. Burrowed with the worms and roots.

For what use was it for a man like him to yearn for a woman like her?

He swallowed the hopeless lump in his throat.

"Shall we go for lunch then, wait for the weather to clear?"

Hearing the word lunch, Foster and Pound looked up from their own end of the excavation with hunger in their eyes.

"Did that on purpose did you?" said Beauchamp, throwing an accusatory glance at the ginger lad while trying to gather her wayward curls back to partial respectability.

He gave her a half smile.

"The Almighty is the one making it rain, ma’am. Take it up wi' him."

She sighed and her hands fell to her waist as she took one last disappointing glance above.

"I would if He ever bothered to listen,” she frowned, then gave the other men a nod that made them hoot and holler.

“Numpties,” she mumbled, though did so fondly, and puffed at a rebellious forelock flirting with the wind.

After covering the ditch with a tarp secured to the ground, the men headed for the local pub raucously singing an old drinking song with a few choice words changed.

Our Lady must have been an Admiral, a Sultan or a Queen

And to her praises we shall always sing

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp who fills us up with cheer

A pint for our Lady Beauchamp . . .

Their lady laughed and rolled her eyes, before waving the lads off with a promise to catch up to gather her things, and headed to the shepherd's hut that had been provided by the estate.

Fraser glanced back watching her go, and after a moment's hesitation where he reasoned it would be rude to leave without her, he too told the others he'd forgotten something and went after Beauchamp.

Cursing himself an "EEJIT!" every step of the way.

//

Inside the hut was a small curtained window softly lighting the room from the back and two wooden scuffed chairs positioned along the side wall with a table snugly fit between them. Beauchamp herself was crouched by the table legs where Fraser had left his satchel but it was now laid open on its side, contents spilled over.

At his unexpected appearance that shadowed the doorway, she turned his way with an apologetic expression.

"I'm sorry, I was just grabbing my bag when I tipped yours over and . . ."

She held up his small green fieldbook opened at the first page.

And white-hot panic flooded Fraser's veins.

"The writing caught my eye," she continued on, seemingly unaware that the poor lad was gripping the doorway for support. "I didn't know you spoke gaelic beyond the odd phrase here and there. That you can even write it too is something of a feat,” she said, impressed by the words secreted on the page.

“Aye,” he managed to breathe, relieved that she hadn't seen a thing. Not a thing! “I don't get much practice living away from home so I speak it in my mind and heart, write letters to my family when I can.”

“You've spoken of a sister, if I'm not mistaken. Older or younger?" She prodded, as if he were a new discovery, and he answered in hopes to distract her from what she still held in her hands.

Felt a fluttering warmth overtake him that she recalled him having a sister.

"Jenny,” he said, as he moved to kneel down beside her to stuff his scant belongings back in his bag. “She's older and feels the need to remind me of that fact whenever we see one another.”

“And you're the brat aren't you?”

Despite his predicament, Fraser couldn't help the grin spreading across his face.

"I was the devil's spawn, aye, but Jen was no angel. We once got into a terrible stramash about our chores on the farm, the way wee bairns do, and I ended up telling her she had a face uglier than a coo, smelled worse than one too. Next I knew, I was being tackled to the ground wi' my face shoved into a ripe pile of coo shite and my sister above me laughing her wicked wee arse off.”

Beauchamp broke into laughter and it made his stomach do a flip.

“I'm sorry, that must've been awful for you, but I think I may love your sister for that.”

“Everybody says so. Not sure it was worth it in the end myself . . .” said Fraser, his voice suddenly trailing off at the end seeing her attention turn back to the page.

His mind spiraled into action.

"But we really should get going before the rain catches us. It looks to be a downpour, a terrible one.”

“Well it's a good thing we're under a roof then isn't it?” She countered, eyes sparkling through her long lashes. “ Besides I'd rather have an impromptu lesson in gaelic on what,” she paused, squinting down at the book opened on her knees. “Baa-mia-’bruu -” means.”

“Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr,” he begrudgingly corrected, wondering how rude it would be to just snatch his own fieldbook away. But then Beauchamp smiled as if charmed by his voice and echoed back his words with near perfect silky inflections, looking pleased as punch as she did so.

Endearing herself even more to the young Scot's already smitten heart.

“Verra good,” he hummed softly.

“Absolute luck,” she grinned, tapping her fingers atop his writing. “Now tell me what does it all mean?”

He shook his head embarrassed. "You'll think me daft, ma’am."

"I promise I won't."

She said it in such an earnest way, Jamie knew she spoke true. But then a deep rumble of thunder sliced through the air, enough to give Beauchamp a jolt that made her forefinger on the page slip and Fraser's stomach to rip and plummet to the old wood floor.

There, drawn on the page, was Beauchamp's face staring back at her.

“It’s nothing but some wee scribbles,” he stammered to explain, reaching for the book only for her to angle it away.

“You're right about that,” she agreed, her fine brows furrowing as she traced a slim finger to her pencil drawn cheek. “You've made one of my eyes bigger than the other, my nose a dash too long and -"

Her eyes went comically round as she pressed the pages to her chest, a sudden thought coming to her.

"You don't have anyone posed in the nude here do you?"

"O-Of course not! I'd never. I- I'd -"

"Breathe Fraser, I was only teasing you," she nearly giggled, but then her face softened with regret seeing his own face take on the horrible color of a split beet left to shrivel in the sun.

“But really, why bother with me?”

He had no answer but the one that pounded from his heart, a noise like a thousand drums that all struck the same adoring note. She could see it beaming from his face and a hushed silence fell between them as the rain finally came down, hitting the rooftop in a pitter-patter that enveloped her quietly spoken -

“Oh.”

That single utterance had Jamie wishing the rain would flood and swallow him up but it was now or never to speak his heart. No matter that hers would never be his to cherish.

Looking down at his hands, anxiously wringing the strap of his satchel, he spoke.

“There was never any helping it, me liking you. I'd never seen a sight sae fair as you, stubborn as you, nor wonderful as you. And I could never get ye out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried, but ye were always there like the sun and air."

He lifted his gaze to her likeness on the page.

"And then I just started filling my fieldbook wi' pictures of you if only to have something to remind me of you for when the job ends and we part ways. But I'm none so good as ye can see. I never could capture the grit and fire of yer spirit, the way yer curls bristle in excitement or the way yer eyes glow like a match to a candlewick . . . "

His heart tightened as his words faltered while Beauchamp remained quiet. Then like a blow to his chest she flipped through the small book once more, her face unreadable as stone. She looked through his sketches, one of her curls drawn like the ripples of the tide, another of her hands digging through the earth, and of her lush determined mouth curved into a beaming smile, bitten with impatience, beneath a perfect speckled nose.

And threaded between her gestures, her features were more bits of gaelic.

 A bòidhchead . . .

Tha pian orm . . .

Tha cho teann sa tha a ’bhriogais gam iomain

"I told you I was no good. I ken I should just rip up the pages -” Fraser began to miserably say, but Beauchamp hushed him by taking his hand in hers and softly stroked her thumb against the work-hardened skin. 

"You have a fine hand, Fraser. Especially for making my nose look as delicate as Garbo’s,” she smiled, cheeks touched lovely in pink.

Then in a moment that made it hard for Fraser to breathe, she simply said . . .

“Ask me for a drink.”

He blinked, thinking he misheard her, mouth agape. But there was no mistaking what brightened her eyes to shine like whisky.

“Ask me,” she repeated impatiently, almost laughing, as she squeezed his hand. 

Fraser inhaled sharply and tentatively squeezed her small hand back.

“Will ye join me for a pint, ma’am?”

“Claire,” she grinned, and coyly tilted her head . “And of course I will. Took you long enough to ask,” she winked, making Fraser stare at her in charmed disbelief.

And then Beauchamp closed the distance between them, hand light as a feather against his chest.

“But first you ought to kiss me, Fraser. It's still raining and I might catch a chill from all this waiting."

Still staring at her mesmerized, with questions that could wait another day flitting through his mind, Fraser wove an errant bonnie curl around his fingers and smoothed it behind her ear. Letting his thumb drag against her cheek.

“It's Jamie,” he murmured, in a brush of his lips to hers. 

And on and on it went.

//

Bha mi a ’bruadar mun bhròn mhòr. . .

I dreamt about the mourning. The deaths of great men. Terrible men. Old and young. Of Kings lost in battle buried beneath us. They cried out to me and the Earth came to life and twisted her roots around me, dragging me inside her womb. Dark and cold, breathless like a cave. But I wasn't frightened. I saw lights rushing around me, bright as the twilight sky. The souls that lie ahead. Surrounding us.

They brought me to you.

//

A/N: This had a ton of notes and explanations so you can read all those on ao3. But for sure I’ll say here this is very loosely based on the movie The Dig.

[vintage-marina]

A woman out of time pt. 6

summary: a few days after James spoke with his wounded men, some of them died. There were funerals on Port Royal for their family. The reader spots him in a bar when she is exploring Port Royal.

CW: insecurities

wordcount: 3291

After the night fell, you walked towards the infirmary to declare the devastating news. Most of them were fast asleep and those who don't, were lost in their head. You saw that a man was awake, the same man that you had to tell the bad news. He stared ahead and you could see in the dark that he had blood with puss on his bandage. Silently you picked up a chair and sat next to him.

''I have to tell you some bad news,''

He turned his head towards you and he nodded slowly, a sign for you to continue. You sighed deeply and looked to the man.

''You're not going to make it, sir.''

He smiled a bit and he whispered: ''I have peace with it.''

''Can I do anything for you?''

He nodded again. ''Paper, ink and a quill,'' he took a deep breath. ''Please.''

Arriving in Port Royal was difficult, Thomas and James had to break the news towards their wives. Groves lend you his arm and you were guided to a seamstress, you turned your head and you could see some of the women crying for their husbands. A guilt filt you up, a guilt that you was familiar with. If only, if only you had the right medicines. The town was beautiful, nothing like New York or Wakanda (not they they aren't beautiful, Wakanda is enchanting). There were no cars and no loud noises, perfect. You saw a lot of tropical trees, trees that you had never seen in your life or simply couldn't remember it and the town was full of liveliness.

''Is it just me or does James not talk much?''

''He isn't really good with words, he finds it difficult to talk to people. It's sometimes worrying if I have to be honest.'' He said to you.

Groves was leading you through little streets and alleys and you stepped into the small shop. There was an old couple doing their work, when the bell rung they looked up and gave a warm smile.

''Hello my dears, how can I help you?'' A woman said with dark brown eyes and a a lot of rimples in her face but with all those rimples she looked very friendly. She looked like a grandma that would always spoil her grandchildren. A grandma, you missed your grandparents a lot, no you missed your whole family. Your parents, your sibling, your grandparents, everyone. You blinked a few times and you tried to swallow the lump that was stuck in your throat.

The woman wore a dark blue mantua dress with a stomacher, with white ruffles along her square neckline and sleeves that went to her elbows with the same white ruffles. It was beautiful, you had never saw this type of clothing in person and you were amazed. Groves explained the situation to the eldery woman and she looked concerned about you.

''I can not believe that you had to survive in men's clothing! Oh poor thing-'' she eyed you, you were still wearing that Navy uniform. ''Wearing Naval clothes that doesn't even fit, how dare they!''

You could see Groves looking to the ground, feeling a bit uncomfortable. You laughed a bit and said: ''Indeed ma'am, I still don't know why they put me into that horrendous outfit.''

''C'mon darling, my husband and I are going to make sure that you are going to wear something beautiful!''

You were quickly shuffeled into a room. The room was stacked with different coloured silk, cotton, linnen and satin. Splashes of pink, yellow, black, white and blue filled your vision and the quality was never like you ever had seen. The woman stepped into the room and had a measuring tape in her hands.

''Alright dear, I need you to take off your clothes, if you are comfortable with that.''

No you were not comfortable with that, you looked towards the ground and started shuffeling with your feet, not daring to say anything. She looked to you and noticed your discomfort.

''I see, you are not comfortable with that. That's alright darling, just take off what you are comfortable with or not, it's your choice,'' and she gave you a smile. You looked up almost perplexed, a choice. Someone after years gave you a choice, tears sprung into your eyes and you mumbled a hoarse: ''Thank you,'' towards the woman. She widened her eyes in confusion but didn't said anything, she only looked concerned.

You stripped off your coat, the waistcoat, your shoes and your pants but you didn't dare to take off your gloves and your blouse.

''If you need to measure my waist and my chest I can unbutton my blouse ma'am, I'm just-'' your E/C eyes bore into a green silk. ''I'm just insecure about an arm of mine, I hope you understand that ma'am.'' you whispered softly towards her. This was the first time you told someone about your insecurity and you were pretty nervous about it.

''Ofcourse I understand it dear,'' she stepped towards you and laid a hand on your neck, an action to make you feel comforted. She looked into your eyes and studied your face, she saw little scars on your face and neck and she couldn't help but worry about you.

''What did the earth do to you my dear?'' she mumbled to you.

You E/C eyes drifted off and you stared at the wooden door behind her.

''What did the earth not do to me,'' you spat out.

The old woman pulled you into a tight hug and you let the tears fall that you were holding in. You didn't know how long you were crying but it didn't matter to her, she only shushed you with comforting words, like a mother would do to her children. Her words were calming and after some time you were only slightly sniffeling, you pulled out from her hug and you wiped your tears away. Your face was blotchy and your eyes were red but still you managed to smile to her.

''Thank you ma'am, I really needed that to be honest, I hope you didn't mind it,'' and the both of you smiled at eachother.

''It's alright dear. I have a lot of women and girls here crying because of insecurities so this doesn't faze me at all. But I do wonder did you cry because you are insecure or were there more issues?''

''A bit of both actually,'' and there was a silence between the two of you. ''You know what's funny?-'' you decided to break the silence and to speak your mind. ''I can't even remember the last time that I've been hugged like this.''

''I am sorry dear, did your parents never hugged you?''

''I don't know-'' and you felt your voice becoming hoarse, ''I uh- I just can't remember it, no matter how much I try.''

''It's okay darling, I'm sure that you are so loved by your parents, how can't they?''

You nodded and mumbled: ''yes, you're right.'' A shiver ran through your spine, that signaled the woman that she should measure you and after a few minutes you were done and could change again in your Navy clothes.

''I will make sure that you would be getting handgloves, darling. Long ones,'' and she laid her hand again in your neck and this time she squeezed a bit.

''Thank you ma'am,'' and you smiled at her, not a small smile but a smile that maked your cheeks hurt.

You stepped outside the fabric room and saw that Groves was still waiting on you, he nodded politely to you and you nodded back. He saw that you've been crying but dare to try to make you uncomfortable by mentioning it. The two of you greeted the couple and you went outside, he gave you his arm that you accepted.

''I'm sorry for making you wait for so long Theodore.''

''It is alright Y/N. I understand that getting your measurements is difficult, you do not have to be ashamed of it. Sometimes I am insecure too when they need to take my size. You have no need to apologise.''

''It really sucks to be insecure,''

''It indeed is.''

Groves explained that your clothes would be done in a few days and he gave you a bundle with coins, because you did a wonderful job he told you and you decided to explore Port Royal. But you still couldn't shake off the feeling for being responsible for their deaths. You were wandering mindlessy through the town, not enjoying yourself. You missed home, you missed your friends and collegues and a small part of you missed your family from the '40s. You reached through your pockets and picked up the small engagement ring, you went with your thumb over it and you smiled in homesickness. Oh how you missed her, your beloved G/N. But you weren't with her were you? No instead you were in the 18th century while she laid 5 metres under the ground in 1944. She's really dead huh? You grimaced a bit and put the ring on your gloved hand, a sign that you were still devoted to her.

You walked further and heard gleefull banter coming from an alley. Curiously you turned around and stepped into the alley, you saw a wooden sign hanging that signalled that it was a pub. You pushed the door open and you were met with the walm of alcohol hitting your face but with the serum through your veins the smell was ever stronger and you made a sour face.

The pub was loud and stacked. People were singing, drinking and chatting their night away and a slight tingle of jealousy was clouding your emotions. You scanned the bar and you hoped to sit with a group of people that were looking nice, but if you had to be honest with yourself you probably didn't even had the guts to ask if you can sit with them. But instead your eyes fell on a man wearing a Navy uniform pinching the bridge of his nose. That would be James. You walked over to him and you saw that he noticed you.

''This seat taken?''

You sat down before he could answer and he lifted his eyebrow.

''Well now it does.''

An awkward silence fell between the two of you and James gulped down his drink while avoiding your eyes. You studied him, his eyes more tired then ever and you could smell alcohol on his breath. Some people were singing while the two of you sat in silence.

''James, can I ask you something?''

He nodded.

''Are you okay?''

He gave a tightlipped smile, ''Ofcourse Y/N.''

''Are you really?''

James sighed and he shut his eyes.

''No I am not,'' he opened his eyes and stared into his glass, you took his hand into yours and gave a light squeeze. He tensed up and didn't knew what to do.

''You can't always be fine, James. Especially after losing some of your men, it's alright to grieve you know?''

''I know,'' but he didn't sound convinced.

You let go of his hand and he already missed the feeling of your leather gloved hands between his. A small part of you missed the contact too.

''Im gettin' something to drink, do you want something too?''

''A glass of water please.''

You nodded, you pushed the squeeking chair back and stood up. Having a better look at the people you realised how much you and James stood out of the crowd, only the two of you were wearing Naval clothes. Some people were eyeing you and you saw a slight movement in their arm. Probably reaching out for their pistol, you pushed your shoulders back and kept an eye on them. You were walking to the bartender while you heard whispering from a group of men a few tables further away. You leaned on the bar and ordered a water for James and a glass of wine for yourself while you listened patiently.

''So I heard from my friend who heard it from his brother who heard it from his crewmate who heard it from a drunken man that there are rumours about an glowing cube than can transport you anywhere where you want,'' said a man who was bald, he had a scar on his face.

Your interest was peaked and you turned your head to listen better.

''Wow,'' said a blond man, possibly a crewmate from his and you could hear other men agreeing with him.

''So we can go to Tortuga no matter where we are?''

You got your drinks handed in your hands and the bartender accepted the coins that you gave him, but you wanted to hear more of the conversation.

''Aye.''

You could hear the men cheering and saw that some people were turning their heads, only for them to be shushed by the bald man.

''Where is it, the glowing cube?''

''That's the problem boys, it's in Tønsberg, Norway,'' and the smiles of the crew went slowly away, but one man spoke up.

Step 3 was completed, you knew the location and so you knew that the Infinity Stones indeed excists here and so you could write off step 1, step 1,5 and step 3 of your list.

''Are we the only one who knows about this?''

You saw that James looked at you questioning why you didn't come to him, but you shaked your head hoping that he would understand.

''No-'' and his voice becames bitter. ''Jack Sparrow.''

''Damn him!'' And another few curse words flew out of the mouths of the crew, but you smirked slightly. You only knew him for a few days but if something interesting was going to happen, he always was present and the Black Pearl still had your timetravel suit that you needed.

You pushed yourself off the bar and held the two glasses high above your head so nobody could knock it over. But how would you go to Jack? He probably is nowhere to be seen in the Caribbean waters. A light bulb went off in your head, you had an idea that maybe or maybe not involved James. You maked your way through dancing people and sat the glass of water down for James, the same people who watched you were still watching so you couldn't really say anything.

You sipped of your wine and you saw that James wasn't drinking his water.

''Why aren't you drinkin' James?''

''Why were you waiting while you already had our drinks?'' He asked you. You lowered your voice and you scanned the bar, not wanting to people eavesdrop.

''I can't say it here.''

He nodded and he picked up his glass and took a gulp, he quickly sobered up and looked a little embarrased that you saw him a bit intoxicated. Suddenly you felt the need to apologise for what you said in your cell on your first day on the Dauntless. But why? So that he can trust you or because you liked the man? You didn't knew why exactly.

''James have I already said sorry for hurting you when I was in the cell?''

''No, but you do not have to.''

''I do, I hurted you and I'm truly sorry about that. I said it- I said it because I wanted you to be hurt, but now I know you more and I feel guilty. So James I'm sorry.''

''That was one of the worst apologies that I ever had heard,'' the two of you chuckled.

''Hey! I'm trying!''

''But what you said in your cell was practically true. I send a lot of pirates to their deaths-''

''You ever felt guilty about that?''

''I don't know, it is my duty to keep the Caribbean waters safe from pirates. If they weren't pirates then I didn't have to, hang them I mean. But they are, so they are a danger, that I-the Navy has to eliminate.''

So he doesn't know if he feels guilty, it looks like that he tries to justify what he did, you thought to yourself. You sipped of your wine, maybe you want him to trust you. Not because that would help with finding the Tesseract but because you find him kind? He's surely not as bad as you first thought.

You hummed, that you understood him and you finished your wine.

''Shall we go Y/N?''

''I suppose so,'' the two of you stood up and he gave you his arm, the two of you walked out of the tavern and the cool air of the evening was welcoming into your face. While you could hear the singing and the yodeling from far away.

The two of you walked to the Dauntless sometimes whispering a few words. It had becoming evening and the sun settled down into the water, revealing some of the universe her stars. The sky looked like a painting with her purple, pink and her orange and you smiled lightly.

''You know, when I was younger I thought when the sun settled down, it would go into the sea,'' you told to him. A memory that you recently re discovered.

''I think that some people still believe that theory,'' he looked at you and you looked at him. Feeling the tension of unspoken words washing away, maybe this could be a friendship or more you didn't knew or maybe you didn't wanted to know, scared to fall in love again, scared to forget about your late fiancée scared that maybe when you fall in love that you didn't loved G/N anymore.

The two of you walked further, to the harbor and to the Dauntless. You saw that James wanted to question you why you were waiting by the bar but you shot him a glance that he couldn't ask now. Under your combat shoes was the wood creaking and you made your stride faster dragging James along. You unhooked your arm out of his and you stepped on the plank to hop on the ship.

''Can you explain now what you heard in the tavern Y/N?''

The two of you walked into his cabin and you took a seat, still admiring the simple but beautiful room.

''When I was at the bar, I heard some people, it looked like a crew talking about -alright im going to sound ridiculous. About an glowing cube-''

James his eyebrows shot up.

''An glowing cube?''

''It sounds ridiculous isn't it?''

He hummed in agreement.

''But it's not, those men heard rumours about it and maybe it isn't glowing and maybe it isn't a cube but every rumour contains a little bit of truth. They say that this cube, what they call the Tesseract can transport you anywhere and I didn't want say it in the tavern because what if someone else heard it or what if they found out I eavesdropped?''

''It really sounds interesting Y/N, but what got the Navy to do with pirate business?''

You knew that you had to mention Jack or some bullshit about how Engeland can be anywhere she wants or else you could never reach Jack in time.

''The Navy has nothing to do with it, but can you imagine: England having the Tesseract in her possesion, securing her position of the mightiest country in the world.''

You could see the wheels turning around in his head and you saw that he was lost in his thought.

''Besides I heard that Jack and his crew are searching for it.''

''Where is it? The Tesseract?'' he asked you.

''Tønsberg, Norway''

''Then we shall be ready tomorrow to make our way to Tønsberg.''

''What about my clothes?''

''You will have that, tomorrow morning.''

A/N: I hope you guys like it, I think this is the most conversation that the two of them ever had lol. Likes and reactions are appreciated!

[ickle-ronniekins]

the one i was meant to find

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

pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 4.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- -

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

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

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

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

“The best of the best,”

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

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

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

“I love you.”

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

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

-- -

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

And George.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you too, George.”

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

-- -

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

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

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

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

I must not disobey the law.

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

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

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

“Let’s fight this!”

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

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

“And you think I do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- -

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-- -

December 1997

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

93 Diagon Alley.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A familiar ring.

Molly’s ring.

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

Fate will win in the end.

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

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

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

Fate had won in the end.

Just like Molly had told you.

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

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

reblogs, feedback, comments, and shares are all appreciated! thanks for reading :)

[pillow-anime-talk]

his talented baby. {pt.1}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a girl who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: female reader ft. ken kaneki & nishiki nishio {tokyo ghoul} + yuuma isogai & itona horibe {assclass}

— KEN (ft. singing)

Your closest friends invited you to a popular karaoke bar on one Friday night to celebrate a successfully passed semester in college. Of course, you couldn’t forget about your lovely boyfriend, who was at the same university, but in a different field (i.e. Japanese literature) and always supported you with all his might, knowing how much you want to do your dream job in the future.

So you went to the meeting together, and on the way to the designated place you talked all the time about what the next year of study would bring you. As soon as you reached the room where your three closest besties and one male friend were waiting for you, you both greeted them warmly, immediately taking off your thick coats and taking your seats on a soft, leather couch next to a table filled with tasty-looking snacks and colorful drinks.

Long minutes of conversations between the six of you resulted in drunk plenty of alcohol and blushes on the faces. After drinking, you always got more talkative and more self-confident, so you suggested using the TV and the karaoke machine. Of course, you first offered your friends and Ken to sing something, but they all declined, saying that you should start as an initiator. One of the girls, blonde-haired Minami, smiled at you with a sparkle in her pretty golden eyes, adding that you are the best in this and you should show how to do it correctly. You chuckled in response, waving your hand at her to dismiss compliment.

Kaneki, on the other hand, frowned as he looked at the boy who was sitting on his right.

“... Oh, you don’t know? Y/N-san hasn’t yet praised herself to you that she has a wonderful voice? Huh, huh.” The black-haired boy shook his head, reaching for the glass filled with blue something again. “Hmmm, well. Normally Y/N’s very shy, but she always sings at trips when she’s drunk.” He chuckled while you picked one of your favorite songs in the meantime. So everyone looked at your standing figure, then heard the characteristic sounds from one of Selena Gomez’s songs coming from the gray speakers.

“My dear, I dedicate it to you~!” You looked with joy on your face towards the eighteen-year-old, giving him a quick wink, and then you started your little performance with ‘Love you like a love song’ from the above-mentioned artist.

Your friends didn’t seem surprised and instead started clapping to the beat of the music... but Ken’s eyes widened and he spat out his high-percentage drink, not knowing how to react to the fact that for nine, long months of your relationship, you concealed the fact that you could sing so well and so beautifully. Your voice was perfect for the song that was playing now, and you seemed to be having a great time – there was a huge smile on your lips, your eyelids were slightly closed and your hand was over your heart. If it weren’t for the fact that you were at a karaoke bar, everyone would definitely think you are playing a concert on the biggest stage in Tokyo city.

After the song was over, another girl got up to present a completely different choice, and you handed her the dark microphone, bowing in the process.

Kaneki still seemed speechless and as soon as you sat down next to him, he immediately kissed you on the warm forehead, asking you to sing more to him, especially when you two are going to be alone, because he probably fell in love with you once again and just wanted to experience that love every day thereafter.

— NISHIKI (ft. ballet)

Nishiki, as a pharmacy student, didn’t have much time for extra-curricular activities or unnecessary meetings; in addition, the fact that he was a bloodthirsty ghoul and had to watch over himself made it difficult for him to function normally in the life of Kamii University. However, the brown-haired man always found time for you, for his beloved girlfriend.

You had been dating for over three, long years, and the man definitely couldn’t imagine his own life without you by his side. You knew each other better than anyone else in this world, but sometimes some tiny things of your ordinary day eluded Nishio; of course you understood it perfectly and you weren’t angry or disappointed with him. After all, he had to protect himself, you, take care of his specific menu, be vigilant at every step, and additionally he had to pretend to be the perfect student, senpai (or kouhai) and friend of other people.

So you weren’t surprised when one day you handed him a silverish ticket for probably the most important show of your life and he just looked at you in wonderment. At the beginning, the twenty-year-old asked if it was a performance related to singing or playing an instrument due to the fact that the colorful paper didn’t tell him too much, but you just smirked as you tweaked the unruly, soft hair on his head.

“Hmm. If you don’t remember what I do in my free time, it’s even better, I guess. Come and see it for yourself, honey. I think that thanks to this you will even calm down a little and rest due to the recent weeks.” You announced in a light tone of voice, and the young man sighed under his breath.

“So... I’ll find out in three days, am I right?” He made sure by correcting his glasses and you nodded, then grabbing his rough hand and kissing his cool cheek. A short while later you suggested going to your apartment and catching up on a few episodes of your favorite series that you started quite recently.

The anticipation of your important day passed very quickly and on Saturday, at 6 p.m., when everyone took their seats (with your boyfriend sitting on one of the balconies with the best view of the stage), delicate music was played in the theater, which made everyone shiver on the whole body. Until then, the brown-eyed boy somewhere in the back of his head had the impression that it was a theater performance or an opera, but when he saw your person appear on stage in a beautifully tailored dress and ballet shoes, all the questions that flickered in his mind disappeared in literally one second.

‘Well, yeah. I remember now. She always told me about ballet classes and new shoes.’ A huge, proud smirk came on his pale face and you glanced out of the corner of your eye towards his VIP seat.

Though your expression was cold and composed, you felt an enormous heat in your small heart as the man waved at you, showing two thumbs up. His lips moved even slightly, and although Nishiki tried to hide it, you knew perfectly well that the pink blush and mute ‘I love you’ was sincere and even better than being able to play Odetta, the White Swan, in a ballet spectacle.

— YUUMA (ft. songwriting and guitar playing)

Christmas at school was never what you enjoyed; maybe due to the fact that before, your classmates on main campus were quite specific and you definitely didn’t fit with their strange ‘ideals’. It was only in the class E that you felt that you could find real friends or people who would share your ideas.

But, hmm. Still, you seemed to stand out from the rest of the girls in the class who had more... down-to-earth hobbies or characters than you; Okuda liked chemistry and was really excellent at it, Kirara loved reading, Rio was the best at English and had a great sense of fashion, and Toka was pretty good at cooking. Contrary to them, you preferred to... do more ‘intimate’ things. Writing short poems filled your heart with peace and prevented you from being as critical of yourself as usual. And when you wrote the lyrics of the songs, made notes or melodies to them and sang quietly, you could feel like a real artist that everyone wanted to admire and imitate.

Therefore, when your first and last class holidays with the rest of the 3-E students were fast approaching, Koro-sensei was the one who asked you for a short talk. You weren’t sure what this was about, but moments later your uncertainties were dispelled.

“Y/N-san, I think you mistook your notebooks today and instead of giving me your homework, you gave to me... this.” He said in his as always happy voice, and seeing the black notebook in which you always wrote songs and notes, you blushed all over your face, apologizing profusely for the mistake. “Huh? But this is no mistake, my dear. If it weren’t for this, I would never even think that we have such a talented soul in Class 3-E. So would you like to perform in front of the rest of the students and teachers during the holidays?” The easy question made you widen your eyes and sighed.

“I-I’ve never played in front of anyone, so...” You admitted shyly, and the tall, yellow octopus just chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure they will love it. We can practice together.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse (especially when Koro-sensei offered to bring your favorite, foreign snacks...) and on class Christmas day you showed up with your acoustic guitar and a notebook full of chords and songs. Everyone was surprised and curious at how well you play guitar. After all, you’ve never even mentioned that you can play any instrument before. On the other hand, the class representative, and your boyfriend at the same time, immediately came up to you, asking if you were really okay; better than anyone else, Isogai knew that you didn’t like too much attention and big crowds. But you reassured him it was okay and promised your teacher you would do it, so you smiled at him and then took your seat under the blackboard with a wooden guitar on your lap.

The song you chose for the day was a song you wrote quite recently. It had a little bit of magic, and at the same moment it seemed very romantic and delicate. Even Karma seemed delighted with your beautiful play and soft voice that echoed from time to time between the walls of huge classroom.

At the end of the song, you decided to raise your gaze and simultaneously look at your all friends, three teachers and other half; everyone was really happy and positively speechless. So you gave Yuuma a slight wink, making him blush sweetly.

The young teenager definitely hoped you would show him more of your songs someday, not necessarily the happy Christmas carols Kaede and Ritsu asked for.

— ITONA (ft. dancing)

“... You never mentioned that you can dance.” He admitted softly, and you squeezed his smooth hand tighter.

“So... I mention it right now. It’s not a big deal, baby. I just ... like it and enjoy it a lot.” You giggled as you correcting the black sports bag over your shoulder, then opened the heavy door to the training room, immediately jumping up at the sound of loud squeals and greetings from your closest friends. “Guys, this is Itona Horibe, my boyfriend that I told to you before! Love, it’s Aki-chan, Yui-chan, Kazuya-kun, Saburo-kun, and our cameraman and editor Ryuu senpai. Most often, the five of us cooperate with each other when it comes to dance in groups of five people. And... today we are going to cover a song so I hope you’ll like it. I’ll go change and you all, please, don’t scare my boyfriend and give him something to drink!”

As a group leader, you often came up with choreographies and warm-ups for yourself and others. So, it couldn’t be otherwise this time. For the last week and a half you have been practicing the choreo you came up with and today you were supposed to record material for the video on your quite popular YouTube account. You were extremely excited, not only with the new content, but most of all with the fact that your beloved one would be able to watch it live and evaluate your skills that have been refined over the years. So as soon as you got back to the teens waiting for you, you kissed the light-blue-haired quickly on the right cheek and told him that he could sit against the wall, close to the table full of snacks and the contact for charging the phone.

Then you talked with everyone for a while, doing a short warm-up and reminding the cameraman about how to move the cam. A few short minutes later, you lined up in the middle of a huge white room with Ryuu in front of you. You knelt down in the center, of course, gently moving your shoulders to calm your rapidly pounding heart and heavy breathing, and when a song by Ariana Grande started playing all over the bright room, you all looked at the already activated camera, shaking your heads and then you got up from the wooden floor.

Itona... was speechless. He has never seen people dancing before, he has never even been interested in others, only you and what you like. Today he got to know your little passion, which turned out to be a breathtaking talent, and the boy wondered if you could do anything else; are you good at one specific dance genre or are you able to move your body in a completely different rhythm than he currently saw?

From Koro-sensei’s history lessons, when you two were in junior high, the eighteen-year-old remembered perfectly well that there is also classical dance, tango and breakdance. So could you also do that? He had to ask you about it later.

But now his curious gaze was focused on you and your huge, radiant smile, and the sound of feet hitting the ground. He also looked at your legs, tiny hands, stomach, and hair, while he wondered if he might learn to dance too, to be even closer to you and your hobby. After all, you looked so beautiful and so joyful... He wanted to share these emotions.

[therenlover]

In Sickness And In Health (An 18+ James Patrick March/Reader Oneshot)

This is 18+ content! If you are a minor, this work is not for you !!!

This fic is a sequel to my oneshot Heartsick, but it can be read as a standalone oneshot!

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Tags: Smut with Plot, Weddings, Fluff, Ghost Smut, Cunnilingus, Sick!Reader, Obnoxious Titanic Knowledge

Rating: E, 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Major Character Death, Romanticization of Death, Murder, Unsafe Sex (it’s with a ghost, but just to be safe...), Mentions Of The Reader Having A Long Term Debilitating Illness

Word Count: 5500~

This fic has been crossposted to my AO3 under the same title

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“How are you feeling, my darling?”

James’s voice was soft as he entered your suite, slipping off his shoes before joining you on the bed. He smelled like antiseptic, hair and hands still damp from a recent wash. Underneath, though, was the sharp, coppery tang of blood.

You stretched as you answered, weak muscles shuddering with effort. “It’s a good day. Not great, I still feel like absolute shit, but I don’t feel like I’m actively dying anymore,”

“Well, that’s certainly an improvement,”

Your fiancé offered you a rare, genuine grin. Seeing him smile made the lie worth it.

In truth, you still felt truly terrible.

It had been almost three weeks since Mr. March had proposed, and true to his word he had been glued to your side helping you recover ever since. He helped you bathe, fed you meals, gave you medication, kept you entertained; days with him were filled with small, simple pleasures. You had never experienced anything like that attention before. Unfortunately, though, the time spent with James only seemed to help your mind, and not your body.

After close to two months of bed rest, your muscles were weak. It still took significant effort to do simple tasks like walking to the bathroom or using cutlery. Some days were better than others, but everything generally tended to end up as part of the indistinguishable haze of pain that clouded your memories lately. If nothing else, at least the fevers were less extreme.

The only light at the end of the tunnel was your wedding. It was still two weeks away, (“That’s plenty of time for you to recover fully, my dearest,” James had insisted) but once you were married that meant you could die. Oh, what a happy day that would be. There would be no more sickness, no more achy muscles, not another day of forced bed rest, just peace and quiet and plenty of sex. God, how you missed the sex…

Every day was another day closer to your peaceful end, and yet they seemed to stretch endlessly. Deep down, you worried that you might not even make it long enough to walk down the aisle alive. You shuddered at the thought. If James ended up having to carry you down the aisle you might just die of embarrassment before he had the chance to kill you.

“I can’t believe you killed someone without me,” You huffed, reaching out your shaking arms and inviting James to lay with you. He happily obliged.

“Would you have preferred me to let him live?” James pulled your torso gently onto his chest, letting you rest against him.

“No, but you could have at least let me watch. I’ve been stuck in here for weeks, James. I get bored,”

He ran a hand through your hair. “Perhaps next time darling, but hopefully, you will be well enough to join me before our next victim walks through the door,”

“Who was it this time?”

“A florist. Liz invited him to bring over a few samples before hiring him to do arrangements for the wedding, but they were atrocious. You should have seen them, my love, they were simply grotesque, not to mention that the color schemes didn’t even slightly match the carpets in the entrance hall. Who puts pink and yellow tulips in a wedding arrangement at a hall filled with reds and oranges?”

You gave a soft hum. “Were they all really that bad?”

“Well… perhaps I was a bit harsh, but can you truly blame me? I want our wedding day to be perfect. There shouldn’t be a single flower or ribbon out of place,” He emphasized his question by gently squeezing you to his chest.

“Is it really that important?”

James went still. “What do you mean by that, dearest?”

A sigh pushed through your lips, your chest aching from the effort. “I just don’t understand why we have to wait for this perfect wedding when we could just get married now. I’m not saying I wouldn’t enjoy a big ceremony, I’m sure it would be wonderful, but I’m just so tired James. Why does it matter if we say our vows in front of other people? There’s not gonna be anything legally or religiously binding between us anyway. Getting married to you, in my mind, is just promising to be by your side forever, so why does anything else matter besides you and me?”

Looking up, you noticed that Mr. March seemed to be deep in thought, lips pressed into a line as his thin eyebrows furrowed together. Your heart sank. Did a wedding ceremony really mean that much to him? In an instant guilt began to flood your stomach. You were really ruining a special moment in his life to die faster? Hell, did he even really want you to die? He had always relished in your warmth, enthralled by the thudding of your weak, living heart. Of course, he would hate you for rushing into marriage just to throw your life away. Or maybe he was stalling because it would be too much for him to kill you himself…

“James-” you placated, lifting a hand to his face, but he quickly snapped out of his thoughtful haze.

He gazed down at you with love in his eyes and a wicked grin on his lips. “You’re right! We shall be married this afternoon!”

A jolt of shock ran down your spine.

“What?”

“As you said, our wedding is a binding of souls, my darling! Our love is sacred, withstanding time and mortality, so who are we to bend to the rules of the common man? If an intimate ceremony for two is what you desire, I shall not deny you,” In one smooth motion, James rolled on top of you, arms boxing you in as he loomed above. He looked absolutely unhinged, eyes glinting wildly in the yellow lamplight.

You knew then that there would never be anyone else. No one could compare to James, your James. He would devour you whole and you would thank him all the while. With a sudden burst of energy, you reached up and pulled him into a scorching kiss.

It was sloppy, all battling tongues and clashing teeth, nothing like the soft pressing of lips that you had been sharing lately. How had you gone almost two months without this? Your heart felt like it was about to burst right out of your chest. As James bit down hard on your lower lip, you pulled fistfuls of his pinstripe suit into your hands.

After a few more seconds of desperate, breathless kissing James pulled away. You panted for air below him. “Why’d you stop?”

To your dismay, he climbed off of you. His hard-on was fully visible through his thin dress pants as he stood. “As much as I would love to ravage you now, dearest, I believe we have vows to exchange,”

“Can’t we just do them in bed? I want you now,”

He chuckled at your whining. “I may be willing to compromise on many things, but this is not one of them,”

“Please, Mr. March,” Your words were loaded, innocent doe eyes boring into his very soul, “for me?”

You could tell it was a difficult decision, but James stood strong. “I can’t say you haven’t thoroughly tempted me, but I’m afraid not darling,” he said firmly, “Forgive me?”

With a sigh, you nodded. “Of course,”

The instant you gave in, he beamed. “Splendid! Now, it’s a shame that we don’t have your dress, but I believe I have given you several gowns that would serve nicely,”

“You’re not gonna let me get married in my pajamas?”

“Would you prefer that to wearing a dress?”

The genuine concern in James’ voice was enough to make you fold. The things his voice did to you….

“Darling,” you groaned, fighting your weak muscles as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, “look in the closet. There should be a black zip-up garment bag in there,”

He quirked up an eyebrow.

“Just do it,”

“As my bride commands,” James rushed to the closet, thumbing through gowns. By the time he found it you were on your feet, leaning on a nearby wall for support. “This one, darling?” he asked, pulling it from the rack.

You grinned. “That’s the one. Open it up for me?”

James undid the zip quickly. Once he saw the contents, he gaped. “You know it’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding,”

Slowly, you made your way to James and hugged him from behind. “Well, it’s a good thing the wedding is happening now... can you help me get the dress on?”

He happily obliged.

In less than 15 minutes you were laced into your wedding dress and sitting at your vanity. James was by the phonograph looking at records while you finished pinning up your hair. It was finally time.

“What would you like me to play, darling? We don’t have the wedding march, but there are some decent options. Let’s see… The Swan? You always have loved Saint-Saëns. Or perhaps Songe d’Automne?” James asked. He had been strangely lenient; bending to your will on the wedding, letting you pick the music, allowing you to tease him with no repercussions. You shrugged it off.

“You would really play the song that played as the Titanic sank at our wedding?”

“I find it strangely fitting,”

With a soft laugh, you put the last pin in place and turned to your groom. “And so it is. I’ll compromise. We have Mon Coeur S’Ouvre A Ta Voix, don’t we? You’ll get your morbidity while I get my romance,”

“That sounds delightful, my dear. Good choice,”

James found the correct record and set it on the phonograph, placing the needle and cranking the arm with a well-practiced hand. Then, as the music began to play, he stood. It was like he was devouring you with his eyes, drinking in every detail of you as he approached. He offered you his hands. “Shall we begin, my darling?”

You joined him in the center of the room without hesitation, taking his offering with a smile, “I think we shall,”

“I admit,” James said, voice sweet and low, “that I am well out of my depth here, but before we begin may I say that you, as you are now, are more beautiful than I’ve ever seen you?”

Your face flushed. “What’s gotten into you, James? Are you getting soft on me?”

“We can only hope not, I have a reputation to uphold you know! I just can’t help but think…” his sentence drifted off as his gaze fell on yours, “I am a hard man, one of custom and habit. My life has been filled with monotony for as long as I have lived. Even killing has become commonplace for me. Things do not phase me the same way they phase you, darling, in all of your softness and perfection. I wonder if this is what will truly make you happy,”

“James!” you dropped his hands in order to cup his face, “I love you. I want to be with you. What would make you think I’m unhappy here?”

He covered your small fingers with his own, voice wistful. “I love you too, Y/N. Don’t misunderstand me, this wedding brings me more joy than you know. I simply wish to say that you will only get married once and I want it to be exactly to your liking. I have been engaged thrice and married once before, all of the pomp and circumstance is old news to me. For you, though, in all your youth…”

In a rare moment of openness, James bared himself to you. It was only right for you to do the same.

“I have never been more sure of myself than in this moment,” you whispered, leaning to let your forehead rest against his, “You are enough. I don’t need guests, or flower arrangements, or a cake to know I love you and I want to spend the rest of eternity at your side. You’re right, I’m young and I’ve made a lot of dumb choices in my life, but loving you isn’t one of them. Take me, James, make me yours. This is where I belong”

As you spoke, you felt him relax against you.

“Well, you’ve certainly convinced me,” he murmured before pulling back and bringing your hands to his still, unbeating heart, “now, on with the show… my queen, the woman who has tamed my heart, you are the only one of your kind. No one else could move me the way you do. The moment I saw you walk into my hotel I knew that you would be mine, but I had no clue of the things you would do to my heart. You have changed me, mind, body, and soul. I can only hope that I’ve changed you in similar ways,”

While he was speaking, it suddenly hit you that this was it. Usually, brides had months of build-up to their weddings, filled with cake tastings and dress fittings and family and friends. You, though, had had only a few weeks to prepare, most of which were spent on strict bedrest while James took care of the planning. Even then, you had disregarded the plans. Tears of joy began to roll down your cheeks. Nothing had ever felt so right in your whole life.

“Oh darling, don’t cry,” he cooed, wiping your tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“I’m just so happy!”

“And you shall continue to be happy. As long as you remain by my side, you will want for nothing! I shall be with you in sickness and in health, through life and through death,” Suddenly, his voice lowered to almost a whisper. “You, Y/N, have captivated me. I wish to never be without you again,”

“You never will be,”

James smiled, squeezing your hands. In an instant, you realized it was your turn. You hadn’t given much thought as to what you would say, but as you gazed into his dark, hopeful, hungry eyes the words came to you as clear as day.

“James Patrick March,” you said, “I have never met anyone quite like you. When I first saw you, I had nothing. I was destitute. The Hotel Cortez was my last hope in life, but then, I spoke to you in the Blue Parrot Lounge and I suddenly knew exactly what my purpose in life was. Somehow, someway, I realized that I had been made to find you. You’ve given me so much, James. You showed me that life was worth living. I can’t think of a future for me that doesn’t include you. From this moment on, once I’m finally Mrs. March, we can finally be what we were made to be… one heart, one mind, one soul. I’ll never let you go. Marry me, James? Stay here with me until the world ceases to turn?”

“I will, darling. I do,” while he spoke, he reached into his pocket. “I had hoped that this ring would be sitting on your finger sooner. It belongs to the woman of the house, the holder of my heart… you, my dearest Mrs. March. Please say you love me, and that you’ll stay with me until nothing of this world remains?

You responded with a grin. “I love you, James… I do,”

Slowly, he slid the ring onto your finger. It was the first time you’d actually seen it up close, and it was more stunning than you remembered. A large, square-cut diamond sat on a bed of smaller rubies, and it was all held together by a delicate silver band that fit your finger perfectly. The red stones were a new addition. Had James had the ring altered just for you? You were about to ask when you caught his gaze.

“May I kiss the bride now, my darling?”

Instead of responding, you surged up and kissed him yourself. It was like none of the kisses you had ever shared before.

There was a passion to it, but it wasn’t desperate. It was more of a low, roiling thing, a time-bomb ticking down to explode. In seconds James’ cool hand had found its way into your hair, pulling you closer and messing up the pinned curls you had put in earlier. You found you didn’t quite care.

Your limbs were beginning to feel weak as you ran out of air, and you couldn’t tell if it was because of your long-forgotten illness or if it was just the power James held over you. Part of you didn’t care anymore. As you pulled back for air, your husband reached around to the lacing at the back of your dress and began to pull at it, earning a few giggles as he loosened it enough that it fell from your body, leaving you almost bare in front of him.

“How I’ve craved you, my lovely wife,” he growled, palming your breasts through your bra, “it’s been far too long,”

His touch felt electric against your thin, soft skin. “Please, Mr. March, more,” You pressed yourself against your husband, feeling how your words affected him. He was rock hard. Something about that satisfied an ache in your heart. Even with you sick and weak, he needed you as much as you needed him.

In a swift movement, he scooped you up and carried you to the bed, setting you down gently before settling himself between your legs. You whimpered as he sucked a deep bruise into your neck. He was an expert with his tongue, licking and sucking the skin like a man starved. It felt delightful, but you couldn’t help but think about how it would feel elsewhere.

As if he could read your mind, James grinned.

“All in good time, you little minx,”

Ever impatient, you fisted a hand into his hair in an attempt to get him to move lower. He stayed put.

“Does my lovely wife want something from me?”

You groaned as he wrapped his teeth around your bra strap and tugged before letting go, the elastic snapping against your already sweat-slick skin. “James, please,”

“Ah, ah, ah! Use your words, dearest. What do you want?”

His tutting made you flush from your cheeks to your chest. There was only one way to get what you wanted, and you knew exactly how to do it. With as much innocence as you could muster in your debauched state, you whispered, “Please sir, will you eat my pussy?”

James couldn’t hold back as he snapped his hips against the sheets. “That’s it darling! How could I say no to such a polite request?”

You released a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. In a blink, your husband was undoing your bra and pulling it off, working his sinful mouth down to your breasts. His teeth grazed your nipple, drawing a high-pitched whine from your throat as your back arched, pushing you up towards his touch. It was like your body was a live wire. Every nerve was alive, buzzing at the slightest touch. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Thankfully, he was quick to move once again. He left a trail of gentle, sloppy kisses down your ribs and stomach before arriving at his desired destination. His hot breath against your soaked panties fanned the flames of arousal building within you. Once again, you whined.

Your husband had always loved eating you out. He never seemed happier than when he was buried between your thighs with his tongue buried between your folds, and once again he was faced with his favorite activity. The hungry look in his eye told you that he wanted it as much as you did.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to remove your garter in front of the hotel. I would have so enjoyed showing them all just how lucky of a man I am. Perhaps it’s a blessing in disguise though… I do hate to share” he murmured, pressing a few torturous kisses to the hot skin of your inner thighs as he skimmed your panties with his fingers, “I suppose these will have to do,” Then, in a sudden movement, he was dragging them down your legs by the lace with his teeth. Once they were removed, he tossed them aside to be collected later. The way he looked at your wetness was reverent. It only made you wetter.

“What do we have here,” he muttered, letting the tip of his nose just barely brush your core, “what could possibly be making you this wet, my darling?”

His taunting was, surprisingly, less severe than usual. On any normal day, it would have taken a good 10 minutes for him to be anywhere near your heat, but you could tell he was obliging your whims as a treat. It was a special occasion, after all.

“You,” you groaned lowly as his breath ghosted over your pussy.

“That’s right, my dear heart, me,”

In an instant James had buried himself in your lower lips, suckling your clit with vigor as your hips bucked to meet him. For once, he let you chase your pleasure with reckless abandon. It had been months since your last proper orgasm, so you were extra sensitive as he licked long stripes up your slit. Soon enough you were keening as you teetered on the edge of pleasure.

“James- James, please!” you shouted as he finally worked a finger into your tight, wet hole, his tongue lazily circling your clit as he gazed into your eyes across the planes of your body.

He pulled off momentarily, making you groan. “Please what, dearest?”

“I wanna cum! Please- OH!”

His lips were back on your clit instantly, his eyes smiling as he pumped in and out of you with his fingers and sucked with reckless abandon. Every muscle in your body felt poised for action, your hands gripping James’ hair at the roots with enough force that you were surprised it was still attached to his head. You tipped over the edge into pleasure the second he curled his fingers upwards, roughly pressing into your sweet spot as he hummed, his voice vibrating against you in the most heavenly way.

Your orgasm was like a wave of pure bliss rolling over you as James pleasured you through it, milking you for everything you had. Only once you stopped convulsing did he remove his mouth. Even then, he continued to fuck you gently with his fingers. “Did that feel good, my love?” he asked, rubbing circles into your still-shaking thigh with his free hand.

“Yes, James! Your mouth is perfect,” you whimpered.

He seemed to enjoy your answer because he slowly pulled his fingers from your sensitive pussy before climbing up your body and rewarding you with a passionate kiss. You enjoyed it thoroughly but suddenly became aware that he was still fully dressed. “James,” you whined against his lips, “you’re wearing far too many clothes,”

He tasted like tobacco and absinthe as he kissed you again, guiding your hands to the buttons on his suit jacket before tugging at his cravat. “Perhaps we should remedy that, darling?”

You were quick to undo each button before ripping the jacket from his body and tossing it on the ground. His dress shirt and cravat were quick to follow. He focused on undoing his pants while you relished in his bare chest, running your hands down the firm planes of flesh. “God, you’re gorgeous,” you whispered, biting down gently on his collarbone.

“No need to call me God, dearest,” he chuckled, shoving down his pants and boxers to free his leaking cock, “though I don’t oppose to it,”

He was a big man, long and thick enough that fitting all of him in was just slightly painful but more than enough to make you feel deliciously full. You drooled as you reached between your torsos to stroke him, but surprisingly James caught your wrist before you could touch him.

“I appreciate you taking my pleasure into consideration, my love, but I won’t last long as it is,” he crooned, holding your wrist to the bed with one hand as he lined himself up against your dripping heat with the other. He ran the head of his cock against your folds a few times, gathering up your wetness in the hopes that it would ease the stretch when he finally pushed in. To you, though, it was just torture, and how James did love to torture his victims.

“Please, fuck me, Mr. March,” you groaned, “I need you! It’s been so long,”

“Such a good little minx,” his voice rolled low as he smiled down at you, “using your words just like I taught you. Perhaps you deserve a reward,” Then, as he locked his hungry eyes with yours, he pushed fully into your heat.

You cried out in ecstasy the second he filled you up, your head lolling back against the headboard as he rocked in and out, letting you ride out the initial pain as he warmed you up for the main event. It wasn’t long before the sting was gone. It was replaced with a dull ache, but that was mostly overshadowed by a sweet, building fire spreading through your abdomen again as James pounded into you with reckless abandon.

Every muscle in your body felt weak, loose and slack as your husband found that spot inside you. Each thrust was a shock through your overstimulated body. It was like you were toeing the line between pain and pleasure, always an instant from falling fully into one or the other. When James picked up his speed once again, you started to lose yourself to the pleasure.

“Mr. March!” you wailed, body jolting as he released your wrist and instead used his hand to steady your thigh and hold you wide open, “ Mr. March! Oh god, please let me cum!”

Surprisingly, despite the fact that he was dead, James seemed almost as breathless as you while he purred into your ear. “Close your eyes, Y/N. Let the pleasure take you. Cum for me, Mrs. March,”

With one last sharp stroke from James, you wailed and let your orgasm overtake you. This time, though, it wasn’t a wave. Instead, it hit you directly like a ton of bricks. The feeling was heady, a high derived from the shockwaves of pleasure mixing with the sweet pain James always provided when he lost control. Distantly, you could feel your thighs covered in your wet essence as your husband gripped them and drove himself into you ceaselessly, quickly reaching his own climax.

Maybe it was that you hadn’t been satisfied so thoroughly since before you were sick, but you felt absolutely exhausted as the last remains of your release drained from your body. Perhaps you had gone too far with the enthusiasm after being on bed rest for so long… Something deep inside you felt whole, like a piece of you that had been missing all your life had finally slotted into place. You fell into a dreamless sleep as that satisfaction resonated through your thoroughly fucked-out body.

When you woke, you almost felt disconnected from time. It was like waking up from an unexpected nap that went on longer than you had intended it to. Your eyelids felt heavy, but the familiar ache in your lungs and muscles that had been your constant companion was gone, replaced with a cool, tingling numbness. You chuckled a bit to yourself. Had sex been the answer to your problems all along?

Slowly, you rolled onto your side, stretching out your arms and legs before curling up in the sheets. Five more minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt anybody.

Unfortunately, your plans for rest were foiled as you felt the bed dip beside you.

“How do you feel, my darling?” James asked. His voice was soft. If you didn’t know him better you would have thought he sounded frightened.

You smiled, letting your eyes flutter open as you took in his face. “Surprisingly, I feel great. I don’t think I’ve felt this good for a long time,”

James smiled back at you, his brown eyes glimmering with some distant emotion. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re starting the road to recovery,”

There was something strange about your husband, you noticed as you sat up, looking around. You definitely weren’t in your own bedroom anymore. Instead, you were tucked nicely into a four-poster bed with soft, red sheets, surrounded by dark wood and art deco accents. Distantly, you touched your chest and registered that you were wearing one of James’ shirts.

“You brought me to your room?” You propped yourself up on his headboard as you took in your new surroundings, watching the golden evening sun filter in through the gap in the heavy velvet curtains.

“Our room, my sweetling,” James corrected.

You hummed thoughtfully. “I like it. I know I’ve technically been here, with Devil’s Night and our little trysts and all, but I’ve never slept in your bed before. It’s soft… nice,”

He offered you a tinny false smile, his hands fidgeting nervously with the edge of the bedspread. “I’m glad you think so, dearest. What’s mine is now yours,”

Distantly, you smelled the faintest traces of the antiseptic soap James used to rid himself of blood. You raised an eyebrow. “How long was I out?”

“Just a few hours. I took the liberty of calling Mrs. Evers to turn down your sheets while you rested,”

“You had time for a kill in just a few hours?”

“Y/N, I-”

As he spoke, you reached out to touch his fidgeting hand only to yank your fingers back to your chest. No… this was wrong.

“Y/N, please, stay calm-”

“Why are you warm?” You asked, breathing heavily, “James? Why are you warm?”

James steadied himself with a deep breath before reaching over to rub gentle circles into your thigh above the blanket.

“I… I may have taken the liberties of… Y/N, please understand that I only did what I must. You were wasting away! And a promise is a promise…. What I’m trying to say is-”

“You killed me?”

“Precisely,”

Your husband bit down on his lip, averting his gaze in the hopes of avoiding your wrath. To his surprise, though, you threw yourself into his arms, peppering his face with kisses as you laughed joyously. You were free! Free from pain and sorrow and th e endless trappings of mortality. And James was the one to free you.

“You brilliant man!” you shouted, excited giggles escaping from your lips as you squeezed his frozen body to your own, “I didn’t even notice! Oh my god, and on our wedding night too? That’s so romantic! How did you do it? Did I have a heart attack and die from the best orgasm I’ve ever had in my whole damn life? Well… existence. I’m not quite alive anymore, am I? What did you use? Did you send me down the body chute?”

As you babbled, James slowly began to function again. You truly were his perfect match. “I slit your femoral artery just as all your muscles began to contract,” he explained, reaching up a hand to cup your cheek, “and I came to my own climax as you showered me in your blood. You didn’t feel a thing,”

You happily settled yourself against James’ chest. “You’re right. If anything, it felt kinda good…” you paused, “What about my body?”

He grinned. “You’re dead now, darling, we can revisit killing you during your little deaths at any time you like. As for your body, I didn’t put you down the chute. I cleaned you up, retrieved your ring, and took you to your casket. It’ll be bricked up in a wall within the week,”

“Aw, James, you had a casket ready for me and everything!”

“I commissioned it the day we first met. After we slept together and I led you to your suite, I went right to Liz and had her make an order. I spared no expense. Dark wood, red velvet lining…”

“Mmm,” you hummed, “It’s a shame we’ll never get to christen it… unless…”

“Darling, you cannot truly be thinking what I presume you are thinking,”

You giggled, pushing James flat onto the bed. Slowly, you leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Wanna go fuck over my dead body?”

James Patrick March had never gotten hard quicker in all his 126 years of existence.

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a/n: Welp! That’s the first smut I have ever written in my entire life. I hope it wasn’t terrible! This oneshot was great practice for a future instillation of Till Forever Falls Apart, so look forward to that lol. Let me know if you liked this and what types of oneshots you’d like to see next! Also, I love comments, so feel free to comment if you feel so inclined.

Please do not upload my works to other sites, thank you!