#who said the title ages ago when I told her about the names

[voxiiferous]

Price of the Voice of the People

Vox isn’t an exception to the stereotype of gay people who read classic novels— well, he wasn’t. He’s not really read much in the last few decades, but it was certainly part of his Fall.

When he chose to change his name, while it’s not ‘Vincent Price’, it didn’t make a spectacularly large leap either. Vox, aside from being Latin, is most recognizable in the phrase “Vox populi”— the voice of the people, the majority. It seemed fitting with a head of the medium that helped unite America. It kept his initials the same too, which meant that whether or not he’s chosen a last name, it still feels like him.

But down here, he controls the media. Sell your soul to rise in the corporate ladder, work to consume the mindless media, it’s not like there’s a majority in the same way. Everybody pays for it, most people just decide it’s a price worth paying. Vox offers something familiar, urban, unlike some who see it become a lawless, chaotic place.

He had wanted, no, needed separation from his own name. A fresh start— also, he’d long since gotten sick of all the comparisons and references to the other Vincent Price. The Hollywood one, in the movies Vox had once dreamed of being part of. Vincent Price, TV host, was murdered in his own game show set with his own cords, by a rival and his producer. And then left forgotten in the annals of New York newspapers, as the other one eclipsed all mention of him. Vox had the chance to be something new altogether.

[tojisun]

i fall to pieces

dilf!toji x college student!fem reader

!! this is a mess of tropes that i’ve always wanted to explore (such as lovingly tending injuries and being in love with your best friend’s dad) - the second one is a major CW; legal age gap (reader is in her early 20s and toji is in his late 40s); mentions of bullying (not between toji and the reader); petnames; no curses au // 2.9k words

: i had fun writing this even though i kinda forgot what the plot is midway; i hope u guys would like it <33; title is from cherry - lana

your knuckles, the ones that aren’t bruised, raps on the door, impatience thrumming in your veins. the ache in your jaw still stings, but you are far too focused on the split skin on your knuckles and how the trickling blood had turned the hems of your cream-coloured long sleeves into a garish sight. your chest heaves at another ragged exhale, your whole body trembling, feeling the burning remnants of exhaustion. 

the door opens after your last bout of knocks.

“jesus, what- y/n?”

you startle, not expecting toji to be the one to answer the door.

“what the fuck happened to you?” he asks when you didn’t reply, reaching to wrap around your less injured hand, clasping his thick fingers and warm palm around your wrist to tug you inside the quaint home. 

“uh,” you say unintelligibly, following him with unsteady feet as he leads you two to the living room. “is gumi-chan here, fushiguro-san?” is what you said instead, not really knowing where to even begin with unpacking the dumpster fire of a fight that you were in just minutes ago. 

he clicks his tongue. “i told you to just call me ‘toji’, kid.” he sits you on the sofa, your body bouncing on the plush cushions in a cartoonish way. “and brat’s with y’r other friend. the loud one with pink hair.”

you hum. “yuuji,” you say even though toji would just forget your friend’s name again.

he grunts. “yeah, that one. a’right, you,” toji points at you. “y’stay here and don’t even think about movin’.” then he disappears, his feet padding quietly on the wooden floors. 

only when he’s left do you realize how tense you still are, your shoulders poised as if expecting an attack. you force yourself to let go, feeling your body tremble at the extra effort it needed to exert to unwind your aching body. your eyes slip shut, your brows furrowing as your side throbs in pain again. fuck, you thought, the bitch got me good. 

any other day, you would’ve found yourself winning a tussle with no injuries. or, you grumbled to yourself, i wouldn’t even be in the tussle. but they had no right to pick on mai like that. 

(“heard you sucked cocks to get here,” fake blondie crooned as she wagged her stick-like finger, tutting like mai was a child.

mai bristled—who wouldn’t? 

she’s put countless efforts to get to where she is right now, and for her integrity to be questioned, because what? mai’s too pretty, too confident in herself, for a smart kid? clearly fake blondie hasn't seen enough of your friend group if she’s baffled by how someone could be smart and pretty and confident. even panda was charming, and no one even knows what he looks like underneath that mask he stuffs his head in. 

so next thing you knew nobara was throwing a punch, with momo jumping at fake blondie, and of course you had to join in; you weren’t going to let your girls fight on their own. but then one of fake blondie’s friends pulled out a bat out of nowhere and hit you at your side. 

you stumbled on your feet, almost tumbling to your knees at the sharp pain. mai’s shrill scream had been enough of a wake-up call before you were reaching at bat girl’s hair and yanking hard, forcing her to crumple before you. 

it was a blur after that. then mai was nudging you out of the alley, murmuring her thanks, before you four were parting ways.)

you hear toji walking back in and you peel your eyes open, tracking him as he makes his way back to you. he falls on the floor, almost between your legs, and your breath stutters when you realize the lack of proper distance between you and your best friend’s dad, so you clamp your legs shut and looked away just before toji could lift his head to meet your eyes. 

you startle when warm hands clasp with yours, your eyes jumping back to toji.

“easy,” he grunts like your heart isn’t thrumming loud and fast within the cages of your ribs. you swallow the lump lodged in your throat.

“ok-y,” you reply, internally cringing when your voice breaks at the end of a single word. fuck, you’re a mess. you clear your throat, feigning nonchalance even as toji begins uncapping the alcohol. “okay,” you repeat.  

he hums, spilling alcohol into the cotton ball before pressing the soaked cotton on your split skin. a hiss makes it past your teeth before you are clamping your lips tightly, trying your best not to jostle your body any more. you didn’t even notice your flinch until you hear toji’s soft shh sounds, his thumb running soothing circles on the part of your skin that isn’t wounded or bruised.

“m’sorry,” you murmur, feeling shy all of a sudden, your lips still pursed at the dull thrum of pain.

“s’fine,” he says. “should’a warned you.” toji pauses, the cotton pinched between thick fingers. he looks at you. “good to go?”

you nod, not trusting your treacherous voice anymore. 

toji’s lips quirk up in a small smile. “good girl.”

your mind screeches to a halt, your breath getting stuck in your lungs. it is like the world has stopped orbiting—it hasn’t, not when you can see toji dressing your wounds with gentle hands and even gentler touch—and all that’s left is the echoing words that toji just uttered.

good girl, he said naturally. genuinely. 

good girl, he said in a voice that denoted nothing out of the norm, the same way we’d say the sky is blue and the ocean is deep and you are a good girl. 

(his good girl.)

good girl, he said like he meant it.

fuck. fuck.

a squeal is building in your throat, your body trembling softly as the emotions seated in your chest began to expand and spill over and–

“ow!” you hiss, unconsciously tugging your hand away from toji’s hold, feeling the bite of stinging alcohol running along your tender skin where scratches and beading blood laid.

toji blinks at you. you blink at him in return, feeling prickles of embarrassment creeping from the base of your neck. 

you laugh, something so fake and brittle, feeling so ashamed and awkward. “sorry.”

toji shakes his head, huffing fondly, and his eyes crinkling in such a soft way. “c’mon kid, give y’r hand to me and we can finish patchin’ it up.”

you gingerly give him your hand again, licking your lips, wanting to say something even though words aren’t structuring themselves properly in your head, only to collapse into silence as toji’s hands cradle yours softly once again.

(he’s always been so soft with you.)

he hums, approval dancing in his tone. “y’r doin’ well, kid.”

before you could stop yourself, a wheeze punches itself past your throat. christ, the praises.

toji looks up, concerned.

“just parched,” you say before he could ask, feigning dry coughs to strengthen your obvious lie.

“…i’ll get you somethin’ after this,” toji replies hesitantly. “you still like those ramune, yeah?” 

“yeah,” you answer, your voice curling as you smile, watching as toji begins to bandage your hand. your cheeks tingle when toji’s lips tug up at hearing your quiet excitement. 

you cough, clearing your throat. “i’m shocked gumi-chan kept a stock here,” you say, after a while, wanting to break the loaded silence. “he said he doesn’t like them anymore.” your nose scrunches in judgement.

toji kept to himself for a moment and you wondered if you said something wrong. shame curls in your stomach, chasing away the previous excitement that had been budding in your chest. an apology sits on your tongue, prickling and heavy, then toji huffs. it’s only then do you notice that the bandages are secured but toji still hasn’t let go of your hand. 

“yeah, megumi’s done with ‘em,” he finally says, running soothing circles on your skin again. “i just kept buyin’ a bunch cause i know you like ‘em.”

“oh,” you mutter, feeling so breathless and choked up at the same time. 

toji chuckles without humour. “yeah. ‘oh’.” 

there’s a certain hesitancy in his next caress, an internal battle flickering from within his eyes, and you feel lost, anxiety and desire mixing in an uneasy tandem, overwhelming your veins to the point of silencing the previous beating you had. then, toji lets go.

your hands twitch, jolting to pull him back, but you catch yourself before your touch can connect. but it’s too late: toji had seen your aborted move.

he looks at you, searching for something in your eyes. a heartbeat passed, and you don’t know what’s gotten into you but you fall into his space, your knees hitting the floor with a loud thud. it’d be another pair of bruises that you’d carry home today but for now, with trembling arms and roaring heart, you let your hope choke you to the point of acting stupidly.

the kiss was chaste, cracked lips just landing on top of scarred ones. the world felt faraway yet scorching at the same time.

you feel toji tense under you and panic explodes in your chest.

stupid. stupid!

you pull back, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but you are stopped by toji’s arms encircling your waist to tug you to his lap. one of toji’s arms snake to your back, his palm coming to rest on the back of your head, before you feel him pulling you back into another kiss. this one is deeper. more heated. more desperate.

good. you think to yourself as your eyes shut close, feeling yourself drowning in toji’s kiss. so good.

you loop your arms around toji’s neck, tugging him closer as if you two aren’t already pressed flushed onto each other, raking your fingers through the straight strands of his hair. 

you savour the kiss, the moment, toji’s touch. you know that after this, there will be nothing between you and toji. a shared kiss is easy to forget as time crawls by, after all, nothing good will come out if things between yourselves are made serious. you’re not allowed to hope.

but god, the way you still do.

you hope that toji would make you his, whatever “being his” even means. you hope that he’d whisper confessions, stilted as they always are from toji’s lips, or praises. lots and lots of praises. you hope that when you two pull apart for air, toji would push himself back in your space and kiss you again, just as yearning as you are.

(you hope he loves you just as much.)

then, despite your internal cries of ‘too soon’, toji is pulling himself from the kiss. you let go, sucking in air desperately, filling your lungs with needed air to distract yourself from the searing loneliness that is crushing you already. 

you clamber off his lap, not meeting his eyes, only to pause when toji refused to let you go.

“uhm,” you begin, trying your best to ignore the tingling of your lips, when toji refused to budge. “toji-san?”

you startle when he cups your cheeks. “told you it’s just ‘toji’, kid.”

“okay,” you murmur. “toji, what’s, uhm, what’s up?”

he chuckles. “well if you keep rollin’ your hips, then somethin’s gon’ be up, a’right.”

you choke, startling on his lap upon hearing his words, the previous tensed atmosphere shattering into something light and humorous. “what the hell?”

but toji doesn’t regale you a response, instead he caresses the skin under your eye, smiling cheekily. “my pretty girl,” he coos. 

your lips part, ready for just as cheeky of a response, when toji’s eyes turn sharp and steely, chasing away the stuttering words on the tip of your tongue. 

“you fought them well, didn’t you?” he continues, his voice still in that crooning tone. “you came to me, beautiful in y’r anger.” toji’s voice has turned into measured murmurs. “and i know you must’ve won—you always do, kid.”

you nod, not knowing where the conversation is going.

“but you came to me, bleedin’ and achin’ and it terrified me.” he leans forward and presses a kiss on the corner of your lips. “and it got me thinkin’–” he pauses, going silent.

you shiver, feeling the way his lips are still pressed on your skin, ghosting with their touch—teasing, caressing. the desire keeps growing in the pit of your stomach.

then, toji pulls back, his eyes finding yours as he says, “i don’t think i can handle lettin’ you go anymore, pretendin’ i don’t love you.” 

“what.” your voice came out as a gasp, your lips (still tingling from toji’s kiss, you noticed with satisfaction) falling in surprise.

“wait,” you say because you couldn’t fathom a reality where toji said he loves you. “what?”

“c’mon kid, up-up,” he replies instead, carefully pushing you off his lap and urging you to stand before he can clamber to his feet. you follow his command, feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed by everything.

he loves you?

“let’s get you y’r ramune,” he continues, pulling you to the kitchen, like he didn’t just drop a bombshell on you. still, you follow him to the kitchen—you would honestly follow him everywhere—hovering by the fridge, bandaged hand intertwined with toji’s own scarred hand, watching as he rummages past refrigerated produce, before pulling out the peach-flavoured soda. your favourite. 

toji lets go of your hand and rips the seal off the nozzle before pushing on the ball. the clink of glass on glass is the only sound in the kitchen as toji turns and hands you the drink. 

“thank you,” you say before taking a sip.

toji leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead. “always.”

your cheeks burn, your veins thrumming with each wild pump of your yearning heart. the affection you have for him is spilling over and even with toji’s disjointed confession, you know it’s your turn to make the move.

so you step on your tiptoes, kissing toji on his jaw, before murmuring, “i’ve loved you since.”

as if that was all that toji had been waiting for, toji doesn’t waste any time before he’s scooping you off the floor and plopping you on the counter, his lips are hot as they met yours for another kiss. he cups your jaw, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss. the ramune slips from your hold but toji catches the soda, plopping it beside you, before turning his now free hands to touch whatever they could of your body. you reciprocate with the same ferocity, tugging at black strands and nipping his bottom lip, trying to convey the want and the love and the heat simmering inside you.

toji growls, deep and satisfied, his voice rumbling between you two. it was loaded with an emotion that easily reflected the storm raging in your chest, silencing the budding uncertainty over toji’s affections for you. you scratch at his back, trying to hold onto him tighter, afraid that this is just another dream.

(you used to count every single one of them, only stopping when one of those dreams left you too raw, feeling like you have been gutted and left to bleed on your bed.

you don’t remember the whole of it, but even with only the fragments you were left with, you know why you ache: flashes of a little kid with toji’s eyes and your nose; flashes of a life beyond flirty conversations and fleeting touches; flashes of vows that lasted a lifetime. 

you woke up sobbing in your dorm room, feeling so small, so robbed of what you wish life could be with toji.)

toji pulls back, the whine in your throat cutting off into a moan when his lips latch on your throat, sucking and biting—marking you up because you are his. you arch your back, giving toji more room to stake his claim on you. 

lust and love are mixing, leaving you breathless and teary-eyed because god you’ve been waiting for this for so long. 

“love you,” you hiccup, trembling when toji’s hands hook under your shirt, tickling your skin with his ghosting touch.

“shh,” toji murmurs, fond and understanding, straightening up to gaze back at you again. “i know, baby. i’ve got you.” he loops your legs around his waist before toji is hoisting you up in his arms and, without staggering, carrying you to his room.

your eyes flutter when he carefully lays you down on his bed, his eyes watching you with reverence. 

“let me love you,” he whispers.

you nod, softly. desperately. “please.”

his touch is a gentle scorch, his bigger body easily covering yours. when he thrusts, it is deep and and strong and filling, reaching your most intimate parts with measured strokes and unwavering intensity. when you cry his name, he croons and coos, praises spilling from his scarred lips along with his promises of loving you and caring for you, something that is so sentimental even as he continues to fuck you filthily.

“my sweet girl,” he murmurs on your skin, his lips latched on your collarbone. you almost don’t hear him amidst the consistent slaps of his thighs on your pelvis. “my precious, sweet girl.”

that’s how you cum: toji deep in you, your name slipping past his lips like prayer, and your pleasure consuming your every nerve.

you know things aren’t perfect, not yet anyway, but your mind is a mush, overwhelmed with toji (his scent, his touch, his words), your body is singing with euphoric contentment so you bury the worries deep in the pockets of your chest because for now, you are in the arms of the man you love. and he loves you just as firmly. 

[leclerc-s]

paint the town red - bonus part

series masterlist

EPISODE 10 - AN UNEXPECTED PURCHASE

charles stands with max, before their final press conference of the season, when lance approaches them. he greets both of them before turning to charles, "what happened? twitter is losing it's mind."

charles laughs, max also looks visibly confused, "oh mate, the craziest thing happened."

"STARK!" lando is heard shouting before he appears in the camera's view. he crashes into charles, gripping his shoulders, "TONY FUCKING STARK JUST BOUGHT THE TEAM?"

"what?" max questioned, "who bought what team? and what are you doing here, you're supposed to be in the media pen?"

"TONY STARK JUST BOUGHT FERRARI MAX!"

"oh," lance said, "that's why twitter is losing it."

"losing it?" lando questioned, "twitter is in shambles lance. it's not everyday a fucking avenger buys an f1 team."

"correct me if i'm wrong," daniel says, approaching the group, "but didn't tony stark get attacked at the monaco grand prix ages ago?

"you should ask fernando about that," charles told lance. the canadian looked confused before realization hit him, "right, fernando's been driving as long as oscar's been alive."

"we are completely and utterly fucked if tony stark just bought ferrari. you think the red bull dominance was bad, ferrari is about to completely annihilate us," lando complained.

daniel laughed, "well, i'm sure you guys will enjoy fighting for that p3. my tractor and i will enjoy fighting for points."

will buxton sits in front of the camera, "there's not many times when the world of formula one falls silent. in 1994, it fell silent to mourn the death of ayrton senna, then again in 2014 to mourn jules bianchi. zhou's nearly fatal crash and romain's near death experience rendered it silent for a moment before it all went back to normal. but this, this is one of those moments where it all falls silent before exploding. no one saw this coming, that's how unexpected this was. we never thought we'd hear the news that a billionaire had purchased the oldest standing team in formula one. let alone an avenger."

we now see christian horner in front of the camera, “i think i’m more so upset about the fact that ferrari will now be able to steal the championship from us. if there’s one thing i know about tony stark is that he is one competitive son of a bitch. there will be no more half-assed pit stops and strategies from ferrari, that you can count on. and with his daughter as one of the race engineers and a lead engineer, that car is going to be a rocket ship. it just means the rest of us will have up our game.”

toto wolff sits in front of the camera, replacing christian horner, “this is not the first time someone has purchased a formula one team. i do not know why they are acting like this is a first. yes, ferrari will be difficult to beat next year. they will know what they are doing, but we will not give up without a fight. next year will be an interesting year for us all.”

in front of the camera now sits tony stark, his signature blue tinted glasses sit on his face. he smiles at someone off camera, before turning to the producer, "need me to take off the glasses?"

"if you would," the producer answered, "name and title please."

tony looks at the camera, "my name is tony stark and i am the new owner of scuderia ferrari's formula one team. oh! and i am iron man!"

"mr. stark, what led you to purchase the team?"

tony clears his throat, "my mother was italian and a big tifosi, she bled rosso corsa proudly. she never got the opportunity to see michael schumacher lead the team to the greatness he did. i kept up with the team in her memory, and in recent years the team hadn't been performing as well as a fan would've liked. i knew the current drivers, charles and carlos, were championship material. that much was obvious to me when sainz became the only non red bull driver to win a race in the 2023 season. for leclerc, well, there's a reason they call him il predestinato right? he won monza his maiden year with ferrari, that alone put him into the tifosi's good books. speaking of, i knew they were furious and after austin, i knew something had to be done. and if nobody else was going to do it, i was, so i bought the team."

"how confident are you that you can restore ferrari's old glory?"

"i trust my drivers and i trust my team, i think that says enough."

in front of the camera now sits an old face. sebastian vettel smiles brightly at the producer. the last time they had seen him he was in a green shirt and he looked tired, but the time away did him some good. he's happier now and back in ferrari red, back where he had started when the show first began.

"did you ever think you'd be back here?" the producer asked him. sebastian smiled, "honestly, no. i had left this all behind and i told myself i was never going to return to this sport. but when an opportunity like this comes around, you don't say no."

"are you happy with this new position or would prefer to be back in the car?"

"i'm happy with my job now."

“do you think you can help restore ferrari to its old glory?”

“yes,” sebastian quickly answers, “in the past ferrari had been stuck dwelling too much on its history. being stuck in the past for so long leads to no results. it leads to people demanding your first driver leave the team after constantly getting screwed over. we want the championship back in maranello and we will take it back. next year ferrari will put up one hell of a fight.”

“you’ve got a great team mr. vettel.”

“i know, i don’t plan on wasting it.”

charles smiles brightly at the camera, “hello.”

“hi charles,” the producer replies, “do you mind telling us what your first thought were when you heard the team had been bought? how did you find out?”

“i found out on twitter along with everyone else,” charles replied, “my first reaction was to text carlos to see if he knew, he was just as shocked as i was. no one had informed us the team had been bought much less who it had been bought by.”

“and how did you find out the team had been bought by tony stark?”

“when there was an emergency meeting called at maranello right before abu ahabi. carlos and i walked in to the factory and it felt like a different environment, people were excited and whispering to each other. you can imagine our surprise when we walked in to that meeting to see seb sitting with tony stark of all people.”

“i imagine it was a big shock?”

“yes,” charles answered, “mr. stark explained to us what he had done and told us that we should be expecting a whole new team when we arrived back from the final race of the season. it is exciting to know that things are changing.”

"is change a good thing?"

"in this case, it is. things needed to change if ferrari wants to be a championship contender once again. and this will be good for my friendship with carlos."

"are things strained between you two?"

"the truth? yes," charles replied, "it is difficult to go online and see people saying that you don't deserve your seat or that your teammate is better simply because he won a race when you haven't been able to do that this season. it places a sort of- tension? is that the word?" he looks at someone off camera, the person must nod because he turns to face the camera again, "carlos and i are good drivers, there is a reason we are formula one drivers. but the team, it has- it pit us against each other, that was what strained our friendship."

"what are your wishes for this upcoming season?"

"to win the championship." charles laughs.

carlos looks at someone off camera, nodding at whatever they're saying, before turning to look at the producer, "hello," carlos greeted.

"hello carlos," the producer greeted, "can you tell us what your initial reaction was to learning the team had been bought?"

"i was shocked, i did not think it was possible for someone to buy the team, it's ferrari. but i also felt a bit relieved? i hope maybe things will change and we can have a decent shot at the championship."

"relieved? i don't think i've heard that one yet."

carlos chuckled, "my friendship with charles was strained after this season. i hope that with mr. stark as an owner we are able to put aside our work and our friendship to achieve the goal we have in common. to bring the championship back to ferrari."

"is it difficult to separate work and life off the track?"

"sometimes, yes. after singapore was when our friendship truly hit rock bottom. i think it was difficult for us to accept that only one of us was the 1st driver. everyone knows that it's charles, it has been since 2021, but i think after a while it was difficult for me to accept that. he's- charles is loved by the tifosi, he's loved by everyone because he's charles leclerc. sometimes it is difficult to be his teammate knowing people will always see me as second best."

"i see."

"i love the kid, trust me, i do. i value his friendship very much, but sometimes it is difficult. with stark as the owner, and sebastian as the new team principal, i am hoping things will change. even if charles is still first driver, i hope i am not treated as second best by my own team. sometimes change is good, this time i think it is."

"what are your wishes for this upcoming season?"

"to win the championship." carlos answers.

will buxton is in front of the camera once again, "it will certainly be entertaining to see what ferrari manage to do next season. the lingering question that remains is, will the starks live up to the hype surrounding this purchase? i guess we'll just have to wait and see."

series taglist: @celesteblack08 @be-your-coffee-pot @evans-dejong @elliegrey2803 @bingewatche @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @lorarri @melanier7 @ironspdy @mypage-myfandoms @vellicora @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @enchantedthoughts @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @fulla02 @cowboylikemets1989 @six-call @embrosegraves @justtprachisblog @bionic-donut @rmeddar123 @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @raizelchrysanderoctavius @burningcupcakefire @spilled-coffee-cup @jamie-selwyn @cool-ultra-nerd @kami10471633 @int3rnetgf @fernandoswarcrimes @skynel09 @arieltwvdtohamflash @mimolovescookies @brekkers-whore @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @chiliwhore @tygecjjd @nothaqks @nataliambc @formulaa1d @prongsvault @kaa212 @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @georgeparisole

strikethrough means i couldn't tag you

¡leclerc-s speaks! once again, merry christmas to those of you celebrate and a very wonderfully normal day to those of you who don't. either way, my gift to you is this bonus episode for paint the town red, i hope you enjoyed it. it is a pain figuring out how to write netflix style, it's over 1.7k words, although it may not look like it.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[thedemonknownasbilly]

Howdy! I've got another poly AziraCrow x reader request for you, if you're interested

Ineffable husbands with a non-binary s/o who constantly gets misgendered and deadnamed during the holiday season since they're around family n stuff?

Ik its not malicious and it's out of habit but man, it's not great for dysphoria. Trying to disconnect myself from that so I don't hold it against anyone but. Idk. Sorry for rambling lol.

Sending love 💚

Their Name - Ineffable Husbands x GN!Reader

Boy, oh, boy this hit close to home. So basing a lot of the house descriptions/holiday traditions on my family.

Ineffable Husbands snapping at Reader’s family

He/Him for Aziraphale || She/He/They for Crowley

Great Room - the spare room usually adjacent to the living room, typically where the foyer enters into.

There was a lot you couldn’t tell your family. How your husbands were actually ethereal beings well over six thousand years old, how Aziraphale found a miracle that would help you to live forever alongside them, or how Crowley was the serpent they so often cursed in Sunday Service. But there was one thing you made crystal-fucking-clear, your name and gender identity. You came out as non-binary almost four years ago, telling your family how you wanted them to refer to you in only neutral terms.

You had met Aziraphale and Crowley a year after that, marrying them in secret two years later, just the past spring. Crowley had told you how they used all pronouns, so your favorite pastime was to call him your wife when using he/him pronouns. Aziraphale told you that he preferred he/him but wasn’t opposed to they/them if it was to put a bigot in place. That if he chose to present as a woman again for the first time in thousands of years then he would update such choices. Just a small family the three of you were.

Meeting them had been perfect for your mental health, you weren’t ready to date anyone, and a rainy day led to you stepping into the red and gold bookshop, with plants scattered about, books older than time itself, an angel and a demon running it. And they took you in without a second thought.

“Darling, you seem lost in thought,” Aziraphale broke you from your thoughts, your bottom lip sore from chewing it in stress. “What is it that troubles you?” You looked at him in the rear view mirror, smiling softly as you felt Crowley’s hand on your thigh.

“Just nervous, and feeling bad. I want to tell them about us, all three of us, and yet I’m too scared…” your family wasn’t the most open to anything outside of heteronormative, including polyamory unfortunately, leaving Aziraphale to be the “best friend/co-worker”, he had actually volunteered the title, saying it would look better for Crowley to be your husband since he appeared closer to your age than the white haired Angel did.

“Don’t fret, I know it’s not ideal, but we can pretend for one night.” Aziraphale reassured, his blue eyes seeming brighter despite the dim light in the Bentley.

“We’re here, love.” Crowley said, parking behind your uncle’s familar white SUV. “You two ready?” You looked over to Crowley and nodded, unbuckling and turning back in your seat to give Aziraphale his final kiss of the night.

Immediately you wanted to slink back into the Bentley when you heard a chorus of your deadname being yelled through the house, directing Aziraphale to the dessert table to place the Eccles cake while you set down the ancient wine bottle with the other drinks.

“This is Anthony,” you introduced your husband to your family, he was dressed in their gray button up with his red tie, black blazer and slacks. “And this is our dearest friend Azira.” Aziraphale was done up in his usual outfit except he traded out the faded waistcoat for a newer one.

“What a pity we couldn’t attend the wedding, but I suppose (s)he’s always done things his/her own way.” Your mom said, feigning innocence as your hand tightened on Crowley’s.

“Ah, yes, I suppose that’s what drew me to them. Their fierce determination.” Crowley glared slightly, a faux grin on her lips as they enunciated your pronouns. That was how the night would continue, both Crowley and Aziraphale determinedly trying to correct your family through their own speech.

“That’s it!” Aziraphale was the first to snap, seeing tears in your eyes as he sat across from you at the dining table, luckily the children were eating in the great room, the tv playing football flickered at his outburst. “I have absolutely had it with you lot misgendering them! They told you four years ago that they preferred gender neutral terms and informed you of their very legal name change, what is so hard to accept?”

When your mom went to speak, Crowley interrupted. “Nope, wrong answer there, see it’s not that hard, maybe in the beginning, to adjust, to try. But you lot never tried, did you? Instead our partner here is almost in tears, they were stressed about even coming, but unlike you all, they value you. And yes, I said our partner. Azira is not just a friend, in fact he’s as much their husband as I am.” Crowley rose from her chair and offered you their hand, which you gratefully took, letting him guide you out of the house with Aziraphale following behind you.

“I’m sorry, that was improper and I know that-” Aziraphale stammered out, feeling like he messed up but being cut off when you suddenly hugged him, laughing softly against his shoulder.

“Don’t you dare apologize, did you see their faces? That was so worth it, I have you two, and we’re a big enough family for me.” Aziraphale hugged you back tightly and kissed the side of your head, you felt Crowley press against your back, joining your hug and kissing Aziraphale.

“Happy Christmas, loves.”

“Happy Christmas, dear.”

“Happy Christmas, little devil.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Stiles x reader - who you are

it's such a cliché but could i ask for stiles x mikaelson!reader that doesn't know they're a mikaelson until they come strolling into town looking for a long lost family member? - Anon💜

You had traced what your mother had told you all the way back to beacon hills. The town she had grown up in, the town where she had met your father, the town she left when she found out she was pregnant.

She told you as much as she could remember before she passed away, and she gave you the keys to the house that she used to live in, saying she was waiting for you to grow older so she could give it to you.

Parking your car, you looked up at the house and sighed to yourself, taking a deep breath as you slowly walked up to it, unlocking the door and pushing it open.

You wanted to walk in, but you were frozen in place until you heard someone approaching.

“Excuse me, can I help you?”

You turned around, looking the older man up and down before you shook your head.

“Sorry, I’m just moving in is all.” You smiled a little.

“Oh I see, sorry. That house has been empty for years, I take care of it when I have the time, the original owned said she was coming back.”

You titled your head at him and pulled out your phone, taking the case off you pulled a photo and handed it over.

“Was this her?”

“Yeah, (M/N) (L/N), she was a friend of mine. Who are you?”

“(Y/N) (L/N), She’s my mother.”

“Right, right I remember her mentioning she was pregnant. Noah Stilinski, how is your mom? I’ve not seen her for a while.”

You recognised the name immediately, your mom had told you about him and how he was a good friend of hers and how he could be trusted and he’d take care of you.

You realised your hadn’t answered his questions and you quickly snapped back into reality.

You cleared your throat a little bit and looked away sadly.

“She Uhm.. she passed a few months ago…”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know…”

You shook your head at him and walked down back towards your car as you grabbed one of the boxes.

“It’s fine, you didn’t know.”

“Let me help.”

You thanked him, and let him help you carry everything into the house.

Stilinski explained where everything was and gave you a small tour of the house since he looked after it.

He pulled out his keys and took another set off, holding them out to you.

“The spare keys your mom gave me, you should have them.”

You looked at the keys and shook your head with a smile.

“No, it’s fine you keep them. She trusted you with them for a reason, plus I have habit of loosing things so best not to have both sets.” You laughed a little.

He laughed as well and looked at his watched before gesturing to the door.

“Well I’ve got to make dinner, but you’re free to join if you’d like. I have a son about your age, maybe you’d get along.”

“Sure, it would be nice to meet a few people.”

You guys spoke a little bit while he cooked and you sat watching, he mentioned his son, stiles was at school, and that he’d be home soon.

“So… your dad… is he coming down too?” Stilinski asked.

“No… I don’t actually know who he is… that’s why I’m here. Mom said I could find out who he was here.”

Stilinski nodded his head as he put the food in the oven and turned around to face you.

“Well if you ever need anything just ask okay? Whether it’s shopping, housework, or finding more information about your dad, I’m happy to help.”

“Thanks Mr Stilinski.” You smiled.

You told him about your mom, and the things she had done and how she often talked about her friends back on beacon hills.

“Dad I’m home!”

“Stiles c’mere a sec!” He called.

You heard a bag being dropped, then a boy your age walked in.

Immediately his gaze went to you and he looked between you and his dad.

“This is (Y/N), I knew they’re mother, they’ve moved in next door I want you to make them feel welcome and help them with anything they need, got it?”

You watched as Stiles gulped a little, awkwardly looked away before he nodded his head, stuttering a small ‘sure thing’ before he rushed away.

His dad laughed and apologised on his sons behalf.

Dinner was slightly awkward, Stiles kept looking at you and when he finished eating he rushed away again.

“Do you want help Mr Stilinski?”

“No, not at all you’re a guest. Just sit down, relax I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

“It’s fine sir, really.”

You walked over and helped him wash up before you excused yourself to go home.

Sleep never came, you simply sat up watching films on your laptop all night.

You never enrolled in the school, you stayed at home mostly going through everything your mom had sent you, and sometimes hanging out next door.

Over time you and styles had become closer, and he was introducing you to his friends when suddenly you were pushed backwards.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled.

The boy rushed over to help you up and you shook your head at him, letting him know you were okay.

“Stiles they’re not human!” Scott yelled.

“What?! Don’t be stupid!” Stiles yelled.

“I’m not! I can smell their scent, it’s not human! It’s actually kinda disgusting.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing the dirt from your jacket as you straightened it.

“Yours isn’t exactly pleasant either, but you’re right, I’m not human that’s true. But I’m not here to hurt anyone I swear to you!”

Scott crouched down, snarling at you, and Stiles backed away from between you both.

You looked over at Scott and his pack, sighing as you blinked, flashing your fangs and your eyes at them.

You dodged Scott as he tried to attack you, and you made absolutely no attempt to attack him back, you simply kept dodging as he tired himself out.

Once he had, you returned to normal, and gave him a little smile.

“Look, I swear I’m not here to hurt you, I’m sure you can’t heart my heartbeat, I’m not sure that I have one to be honest.”

“What are you then?”

“A vampire, from my fathers side.”

“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” Alison asked, “to find your dad?”

You nodded your head as you pulled out your phone, showing them a picture of the man your mom and given you.

They all looked at it and you sighed to yourself.

“I don’t know who he is, but I know you’ve got some sort of supernatural problem going on, I’m happy to help you handle it if you want, in return all I ask is you let me stay here.”

They shared a look and Stiles stood by your side.

“Come on, I’ve known them since they moved here a few months ago, they’ve done nothing wrong. They’re really nice! Please?”

“Stiles.” Alison warned.

“Come on! They can help us! We’re not getting anywhere by ourselves.” He huffed.

They looked at you and watched as you wondered a little bit, hands stuffed in your pockets.

“Fine, but you have to follow my rules, if you make one mistake I want you gone.” Scott said coldly.

You nodded your head and walked over holding your hand out towards him.

He shook it and you smiled a little and Stiles who was grinning from ear to ear at you.

“Welcome to the pack!” He beamed.

“Thank you won’t regret it.”

Anything Scott asked or said you did without question, he was your leader, and you wanted him to be able to trust you.

And as the months went on he did, and you were a fully fledged member of his pack, you even enrolled into school at his request.

Stiles asked you to date him, and although you were hesitant, you agreed to and you told them everything you knew about what you were.

You helped them with their issue, and now they were helping you with yours.

You were all sat in your living room looking through old yearbooks and any photos and news articles you could find.

“Hey what was your dads name?” Scott asked.

You shrugged a little.

“I’ve no idea. My mom said he was a well known vampire, but that’s it.”

He nodded his head and showed you a photo that looked exactly like the photo you had of your dad.

It was an article about a murder, and that man was the main suspect and your heart sank a little bit.

“Is there a name?” Stiles asked.

“No, but that’s definitely the same man.” Alison said.

You nodded your head in agreement, it was definitely the same man, and you were slowly getting closer to who it was you were looking for.

You were nearly there, you just needed his name.

Looking at them all, you frowned and you reached out, taking Stiles by the hand as you gave it a small squeeze.

“What’s wrong?” He asked quietly.

“Stiles… you won’t leave me right? If my father is a bad person, regardless of who he is or what he’s done you won’t see me any different will you?”

“Of course not, you’re not your father (Y/N), you’re different. Just because he’s your father doesn’t mean you’re anything like him, okay?”

You nodded your head and rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you listened to them debate theories about your father

[loserholland]

𝐀 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐀.𝐓

𝐈. 𝐒𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞

Pairing ➺  Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targ/Vela/Strong!Reader

Warning ➺ Knvies! Name calling (Bastard, cripple), angst

Word Count ➺ 1.7K

Summary ➺ Her mother was known to be “The Realms Delight”. Soon Rhaeneyra’s daughter would earn that title as well, leaving many suitors waiting in line an a particular uncle waiting as well. 

A/N ➺ (The reader is born before Jace) I need to get this out of my system, I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days. Also because I personally think I can change Aemond & I love him sm (even though he’s a kinslayer). Let’s just forget that for a moment. I’ll most likely write a part two, we shall see

✿ 𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽 ✿ - @loveyathreethousand @killerqueen-gunpowdergelatine @spideyyypeter @lou-la-lou@babebenhardy @rivervixenbaby @acklesholland @zabdisamor @keepingupwiththehollands @sweet666pea @sspider-parker @jackiehollanderr @caro0512 @thewinchesterchronicles @cporter003 @kisses-holland @spideysnugget @cryszus @sunflowerharrystyles @peterunderoos @ohbabycal @laucontrerasv @spider-mendes @jessybellsworld @quaksonhehe​ @dummiesshort​

☞  Masterlist  ☜

Rhaenyra and Laenor were blessed with a beautiful babe, a girl. The midwife had told her “She’ll be a beauty like you, your grace.” brushing past the fact that the princess had called her a cunt not too long ago. Her first born child, one of her most difficult labors to say the least, the second the queen got wind of the birth of (Y/N), she requested to see the babe. Rhaenyra thought nothing of the sort at first until it happened to Jacaerys, Lucerys.

Quite a cunt move if you ask me. 

As (Y/N) grew older, her mother noticed a difference between her sons and daughter. Her hair was quite unique, brown with streaks of platinum white. Many hadn’t speculated her relation to her father Ser Laenor. Many had said it’s due to her Baratheon blood from her grandmother’s side of the family, at least that’s what her grandsire had said. 

But, we all know the truth. That beautiful brown and strong personality comes from her father. As she grew older she began to catch the eyes of many, not only did she inherit her mother’s beauty- she also had the Targaryen’s signature violet eyes. I guess that was another reason why no one questioned who her father may be. 

At her 6th name day celebration, Viserys had invited many of the noble houses wanting to introduce his granddaughter to many of the young lords that may take her hand in marriage some day. The hall was filled with light laughter and chatter, many houses came up to the main table to greet the Targaryens. (Y/N) sat between her grandsire and her favorite uncle, Aemond. Though at the time she never addressed him as uncle, they were only about four years apart. 

A few months later however, her Lucerys would take Aemond’s eye in an accident. Such tragedy had happened in the past few months; from losing her Aunt Laena, to the death of Sir Harwin along with his father, to her father Ser Laenor. Her mother had taken refuge on Dragonstone while you had decided to continue your studies at the keep.

After Aemond had lost an eye it caused a rift between the two of you. Especially after he so openly called you and your brothers bastards. 

Most of the time he stayed hidden in his chambers, in the library, or in the courtyard training. When she would walk into any room it would cause Aemond to stop what he was doing and leave. During dinner he’d eat quickly to ask to be excused, Alicent hated that he would want to be kept away, she grew to dislike her step-grandchild but would not say anything.

The older she got, her beauty grew with her. Many lords would whisper of her beauty causing many ladies to envy her. They’d watch as she soared the sky with her dragon Tessarion an exact image of her mother when she was her age.  They were especially taken by her beautiful hair, no maiden in all of Westeros had two different colors of hair.

Her uncle took notice of how many lords would fawn over her and ask for her hand to dance. Snickering to himself when she would politely decline them, watching as they would sulk their way back to their seat. He knew of her early morning adventures, training in the courtyard at the crack of dawn before going on a flight blue dragon. He’d admire her from afar, a small grudge still held against her and her family.

She too noticed how much he had grown, no longer the scared little boy whom he brothers and Ageon would play tricks on, no longer the young boy who would sulk when it came to training with Ser Criston, no longer the boy she had fond memories with. 

He became a man.

A beautiful handsome young man, towering over many who stood before him. Her included. His hair was long, almost as long as hers, easy to spot in a crowded room. His stature and demeanor, strong and cold. He trained for days in and days out, studying for hours.  

The many chances she would try to talk to him, he’d keep it short, only humming or grunting in response. She would be lying if she said it didn’t hurt her, she tried to make amends, apologize for her brother’s actions. 

(Y/N) bored of taking part in her 18th name day celebration she slipped out of the great hall making her way to one of her favorite places in the castle. Walking into the library to grab a new book to read, usually it would be about her family history. The tales of her great-great-great-great grandparents never failed to amaze her.

Turning the corner a bit too quickly, not minding her surroundings, she ran into someone falling back slightly shutting your eyes tightly to avoid the embarrassment. The arm of the stranger wrapped around her waist, she sucked in a breath before slowly re-opening her eyes.

Aemond

Quickly she stood up straight “I’m sorry.” Oh gods fuck me, fuck me! Something you never had was your mother’s gracefulness. Also a bit clumsy, stumbling over your own foot. The way he looked down at you said many without him saying a word himself, gods you hated how your relationship had become.

“A thank you would suffice, excuse me.” before you could even thank him, he brushes past you. Your heart swells lightly, unsure of what to say. Unsure of what to do, unsure if you’ll regret this action later.

Fuck it.

Reaching forward you wrapped your hand around his wrist “Wait!” he pauses for a moment not tugging his wrist away. Just get it out, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s been so long since you’ve had a proper conversation with him.

“It mustn't be this way Ameond. Please, we were so close once.I miss talking to you, don’t you rem-“

He turned around in a flash, his wrist pulled away, his eye filled with fire “Mustn't be this way? Have you forgotten of what your bastard brother did to me?”

Anger coarsed your veins, you knew what the people of Westeros say. What they spin about your family specifically your mother and siblings. But it never bothered you because even if Ser Laenor wasn’t your father he still loved you all as though you were his own. It never mattered to you yet, it was such a sin to many.

“Don’t you dare call him a bas-“

He saw the moment to ignite that fire in you, he knew what he would say will hurt but he wants you to feel the pain he’s felt in the last few years. He’d be lying if he said he never watched you from afar, that he doesn’t miss your adventures together.

“It’s what you are though isn’t it? You just inherited your whore of a mother’s looks”

A loud smack echoed the room, if his mother found out about this she’d have your hands for this. But you didn’t care, no one slanders your family name. You’d have any man or ladies tongue cut for even speaking such slander, you knew your grandsire would too.

“How dare-“

“No, how dare you! Coming in here and telling me it mustn't be this way. Have you already forgotten what happened not too long ago? Don’t you hear what people whisper about me?!”

Many of the lords and ladies would point and whisper at Aemond with no self-respect whatsoever, gossiping about how he had one eye and wondered what took place of his eye underneath that brown leather patch. 

It twisted at her heart slightly, guilt sat at the bottom of her stomach. She would attempt to defend not only her brother’s action towards her uncle but she would try to defend him as well, telling many that she’d have their tongue if they spoke about the prince again.

“The one eyed prince who no one will bed. Of what his poor wife must endure, what lady would marry a cripple? Must I remind you, dear niece?”

Harshly he removed his eye patch, your breath catching in your throat. A beautiful sapphire in place of his eye, you wanted to touch it yet felt so frozen. You wanted to raise your hand to trace the scar that was left, he looked beautiful no, he looked like a god. 

 Aemond hummed at your lack of response, “I could make it even. No- I should make it even. Take your beauty away-” Your eyes widened at the words that just left his mouth, frozen yet again just as you were frozen that night at Driftmark. Frozen as you watched blood drip onto the dirt as Aemond’s screams echoed in the cave. 

“What is it that the people call you? Besides bastard? What is it that they call you as you parade around the keep?”

The New Delight.

Just as her mother was named “The Realm's Delight.” Many had said how she had taken after her mother, always making people smile and fawn over. She never asked for the attention, truly. She was just taught to be respectful and kind to everyone, though some ladies would say she was being a whore.

“Ah yes-” he retrieved his dagger from his side, bringing it between the two of you watching as your push yourself back till your back made contact with the bookshelf. Your heart hammered in your chest, beating loudly in your ears. He wouldn’t, would he? He had all these years, he wouldn’t dare.

 “The New Delight was it? Hm- would be quite a shame if i just-“

You shut your eyes tightly the feeling of a sharp dagger dragged against your side. Tracing your skin, not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to let you know how you’re at his mercy, defenseless. His mother had asked that night for your brother’s eye but your grandsire quickly defended your mother and family, asking his wife to drop the matter. 

Forever leaving a bitter taste in his wife’s mouth.

“Go on. Take it, make it a gift to your mother.” you exhaled clutching onto your dress. The queen would be pleased and would final drop the grudge against your family. 

Especially pleased that it was your eye that was taken.

Aemond was taken aback, he expected her to weep and beg. He expected for her to push him away and run. Silently retreating the library and you, “Go on- Take-”

She opened her eyes to see no one standing in front of her, she felt her eyes swell with tears letting out a silent sob as slid down the bookcase. Little did she know Aemond stood outside the door listening to her sob. 

He felt his heart swell in sadness? Guilt? Before he could let it consume him, he walked away to his chambers.

[hummingbird-of-light]

Round 2: Eighth story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: The Tailor, The Princess And The Witch

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Leah McCoy, Original Female Character, Mentions Of Other Characters

Relationship(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott/Leah McCoy

Rating: T

Words: 2,133

Prompt: Going into Hiding

Warnings: Violence, Character Death, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ The Tailor, The Princess And The Witch ~

Once upon a time there was a young couple. Both of them were Scottish tailors and they loved each other very much.

It did not take long for their son to be born. A young and healthy lad they named Montgomery after the woman's father. The tailors were very happy and grateful for their child, but as soon as he reached the age of one, he got horribly sick.

The tailors didn't know what to do. They cried and prayed to God for someone to come and save their little boy.

And help came. When the strangest looking woman they had ever seen before knocked at their door and asked them to sew her a dress, the couple was once again wailing about their poor wee boy.

"Stop your tears," the woman said, stepping over to the cradle. She reached out her long and sharp fingers to gently stroke the child's cheek.

"I will heal this son of yours, however, there is a price that you have to pay."

The tailors couldn't believe it. The strange purple-skinned woman really wanted to save their precious child!

"Of course! Anything for our dearest Montgomery!" the mother exclaimed, clinging to her husband who held her close.

"Promise me your second born son. He will be mine. And mine alone. You will raise him to be a healthy, well-fed young man and I will take him once the sun rises on his eighteenth birthday."

The tailors, stupidly thinking that they wouldn't ever get another child being as old as they were, nodded vigorously and so the deal was made.

Their son was miraculously healed from his sickness and grew up fast.

And soon enough, a few years later, his baby brother was born.

Robert "Robbie" Scott, named after his father's father.

And even though his parents still remembered the promise they had made to the witch - that's what they called her now - years ago, they didn't think that she really would show up again.

They lived their lives as a happy family, all together in their wee house on the outskirts of the village.

Unfortunately, the old tailor Scott died on a trip to gather some new fabrics when he was attacked by a pack of wolves. His wife, left alone with both boys, tried her best to feed them, almost starving herself in the process, and as soon as Montgomery was old enough, he left for a new town where he wanted to work. He did not want to be a burden to his mother.

Robbie, however, stayed with her and helped her as best he could. He learned to sew, to cook, to wash - anything to help her so that she could rest.

When the night before his eighteenth birthday came, Robbie and his mother were sitting together by the fire. And the boy noticed that she looked very sad.

"Why are ye sad, a mhàthair? What is wrong?"

And so his mother told him about the witch and about what his father and her had promised that woman.

"I see. Please, a mhàthair. Do not cry. I will leave the house before the sun rises and go into hiding. I will train everyday and in two or three years I'll be strong enough to fight that witch. She will never get me."

So he left.

The night and the woods were dark and cold, but the young Scotsman ran as fast as he could to get away from the place he had called his home for all his life.

If the witch did not find him, she could not take him.

But the dark forest was scary and the young boy had never been out there at night before.

He thought of his poor father, torn apart by wolves. Every sound, every crack that he heard, startled him and soon enough Robbie was too scared to go on. So he hid in a hollow tree.

He would spend the night there.

~

It was early in the morning, but the sun was already shining through the treetops, when Robbie continued his way.

A smile spread across his face and his chest filled with pride as he thought about the fact that he had survived the night in the woods all by himself. Neither the animals nor the witch had found him.

As he happily went his way, a shot rang through the air and once again the young tailor startled, turning his head to look around. Fear washed over his face as he heard a group of dogs chasing through the forest.

Hunters!

As fast as he could, Robbie hurried through the woods, trying his best not to fall. However, he ran out of luck when his foot got caught in a noose and he tripped.

Soon enough the dogs were sniffing and growling at him and for a moment the young Scotsman feared that they would kill him or that they belonged to the witch, but no such thing happened.

Instead their was a voice calling the dogs back.

Robbie raised his head to look at the person coming towards him and his heart skipped a beat.

There, standing right in front of him, was the prettiest lass he had ever seen before. Her long dark brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore noble clothing. A riffle was slung over her shoulder. She tilted her head in confusion, then smiled.

"Now that is a fine deer you found me there, boys. Looks a bit too human to me though," the gorgeous voice joked, scolding the dogs playfully.

Robbie opened his mouth to say something, but he was at a loss for words. A blush crept onto his cheeks as he looked at the bonnie smile.

"Who are you? What are you doing out here in our grove?"

"Y-yer grove?"

And suddenly the Scotsman seemed to realize just who the pretty lass in front of him was. His eyes widened and he bowed down his head.

"Y-yer highness! I'm so sorry! I-I-I did nae mean to step onto yer family's property. I-it was so dark last night a-and I could not see where I was going and-"

He was surprised when a hand touched his shoulder and when he looked up, the princess was kneeling in front of him.

"It is alright. You look quite tired and upset. Why don't you tell me who you are and we will get you someplace warm?"

Robbie blinked a few times, surprised by the girl's kindness. She was a princess! He was just...

"M-my name is Robert Scott, but m-most people call me Robbie. I... am a tailor."

The princess nodded, then offered the boy her hand and helped him up.

"Alright, Robbie. Come with me. On our way to my home, you can explain to me how you ended up out here."

And so it happened that Robbie was saved and taken in by the noble young woman. Princess Leah was the most gorgeous and friendliest girl he had ever met. And so was her family. King David was a generous man and so was his son Leonard, who planned on becoming a doctor. Queen Eleanor took Robbie in as if he were her own son.

Robbie told them about his family and about the witch who was after him and the royal family promised to protect him, saying that he was part of the prophecy they had received years ago from their healer Boyce.

A young Scotsman with chestnut-brown hair would turn up in their grove one day and they were supposed to take care of him to protect their kingdom.

It did not take long until the tailor and the princess fell in love and on the night before their wedding day, the king asked his future son-in-law to take a walk with him.

Together they wandered through the grove and soon enough they reached a small cabin. Robbie had never seen it before.

However, when King David knocked at the door and it opened, the Scotsman's blood froze in his veins at what he saw.

A white-haired woman with purple skin and sharp long fingers. There were darker spots all over her face and when she grinned, Robbie was able to see sharp teeth.

It was the witch! The witch his mother had described to him!

He backed away a few steps, but the king grabbed his arm and held him in his place.

"Here he is. The Scotsman you were promised years ago. He is well-fed and healthy. You have what you want. Now leave my kingdom and release my son from the curse you put upon him!"

The witch only smiled brighter before she snapped her fingers.

"Your son is free now, your majesty. He can leave the castle without dying the second he steps out of it," she explained, before she reached for Robbie's other arm and pulled him inside her cabin.

The last thing the young Scotsman saw was the face of the king he had trusted, before the door slammed close and he was left alone with the witch.

His eyes fell upon the boiling kettle that was hanging over the fire and they widened.

What was that witch planning to do with him? His heart started to race.

Quickly, Robbie rushed to the next best window and tried to open it, but failed horribly.

The next window. Closed.

The next window. Closed.

The sound of the witch laughing filled his ears and he knew that there was no escape from this place.

"Oh, my sweet little boy, you will not leave this place."

Slowly, the witch made her way over to the kettle and added a few herbs and spices, before she turned to the tailor.

"The tailors promised me a well-fed and healthy young man, but I always knew that you would try to hide from me. And I also knew that you'd be thin as a stick."

More herbs.

"So I cursed the young prince when he was just a baby and told the king that the only way to save his son, is to bring me the Scottish boy that would come to him one day. And he did not disappoint me."

A smile crossed the lips of the witch as she licked across them.

"You will make a great meal."

Fear washed over him as Robbie backed away against the wooden wall. He shook his head in disbelief, tears in his eyes.

The king, the queen, Leonard - they had all betrayed him! Even his lovely princess...

It couldn't be true!

"Once I eat you, I will stay young for the next hundred years."

The witch grabbed an axe which was standing next to the boiling kettle and slowly paced through the room. She knew that there was no escaping for her prey. She had all the time in the world to prepare it.

Robbie stayed frozen in his place. He wanted to fight, to scream, to defend himself, but the shock would not let him move.

Leah...

The love of his life had betrayed him. It broke his heart into thousands of pieces.

He sank to his knees, tears falling like rain from his eyes, waiting for the final blow that would end it all. But it never came.

Instead there was a loud shot and when Robbie looked up, the witch was screaming and swearing, tumbling backwards.

There was a huge hole in her stomach and it grew bigger and bigger until finally there was nothing left of her but a puddle of black goo on the floor.

"Robbie! My love!"

The tailor's eyes moved to the open door and he couldn't believe who he saw standing there.

"My heart..."

It really was the princess. It really was his lovely Leah!

She sank to the ground and wrapped his arms around the Scotsman, kissing him deeply.

"Oh Robbie!"

A weak smile formed on the tailor's lips. His love, his Leah, had not betrayed him in the end. For she loved him just as much as he loved her.

The princess told him that she had followed the king and him on their walk, curious as to what they could talk about, and that she had confronted her father as soon as Robbie had disappeared into the cabin.

The king had told her about the horrible curse and the promise and she had not waited any minute longer to go and get her riffle.

Many folks had tried to kill the witch. But all of them had failed. For no one had used their weapon because of true love.

And so it happened that the princess and her tailor were able to marry, freeing both of their families from the curse and the promise.

And they lived happily ever after.

[biby-24k]

Title: Book Anime/Manga: Black Butler (Kuroshitsuji) Pairing: O!Ciel x Elizabeth Word Count: 4.886 Summary: Elizabeth forgot one of her favorite romance books at her fiancé's mansion. After the Phantomhive Earl read it out of curiosity, he realized there are feelings and attitudes in the reading that he cannot comprehend, but does he truly not understand them or has he been avoiding admitting that he does?

It was a typical day in the Phantomhive mansion. Mey-Rin was cleaning the silverware (with shoe polish), Finnian was trimming the greenhouse plants (more than he should have), Bard was trying to cook an old recipe (which ended up burnt), Mr. Tanaka was doing ‘the usual’, and Sebastian… well, he was taking care of the mess caused by the other servants.

Earl Ciel Phantomhive was in his study, reviewing various documents related to his duties as a count, as well as his role as the owner of the Funtom toy company, letters, invitations, and other matters. After two hours of intense concentration, he stretched and let out a long yawn. In the upper corner of his desk was the book "The Picture of Dorian Gray" by Oscar Wilde, which he had started reading some time ago. Although it was not a novel for someone of his age, the young master had to compete in an adult world, so it was important to stay up to date with literary works, no matter how dark they were. After reading for ten minutes, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," said the young master.

"Excuse me," responded Sebastian, his butler, as he walked towards the desk. "Young master, the activities for the afternoon are as follows," but before he could name them, the tall butler leaned in with curiosity to see what book his master was holding. "Hmm, 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. It's a somewhat crude reading, but it has been read throughout England. What do you think of it?" asked the butler.

"In my opinion, the ideal of achieving perfect beauty seems absurd," responded the young man sincerely. "However, it accurately reflects what happens in aristocratic society. They only talk nonsense about who ages worse and flatter the youth of the youngest while envying them behind their backs. The fate that awaits the protagonist will be the one he himself gradually built."

"I expected nothing less from you," said Sebastian, pleased with his master's response. He raised his gaze slightly. Another book was on the desk, but this one was not part of the adolescent's collection of books. "Forgive me for asking, but what about this book, young master?" he asked as he took the object in question in his hands.

"Ah, it's a book that Lizzy forgot the other day while we were reading. I remember she told me it had become one of her favorites," the young man closed his current reading, left it on the table and paid attention to the butler.

"Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen," Sebastian said aloud. After bringing his right hand to his chin and trying to remember where he had read that title before, he suddenly did. "Ah, I remember now. This title is indeed very popular among young ladies of the country. It is a romance novel that dates back to 1810. Would you like me to give you a summary?"

"Romance?" asked Ciel, with surprise and a hint of panic in his voice. However, after his reaction, he remembered that his fiancée was no longer ten years old, but fourteen. And with her age, her beauty became more apparent before his eyes. The young master tried not to think about it, but his youthful hormones had already begun to wreak havoc inside him. There were days when even a slight sweet aroma reminded him of her.

His perception of his fiancée had changed over time. When he returned to the mansion as Ciel Phantomhive, he found it difficult to see Elizabeth as anything more than a matter of diplomacy. But over time, his feelings had slowly blossomed. This caused curiosity from Sebastian since the young master never lost his composure, except when he was with her. The few genuine smiles he had seen on the adolescent and the sudden childish blushes were in those situations. Therefore, the butler could not help but curve the corner of his lips into a smile while planning a new way to tease the young master.

"Of course, young master. Lady Elizabeth is fourteen years old, it is natural for her to have an interest in such readings," responded Sebastian, while circling the young man's desk to admire his innocent expressions. "Does it intrigue you, my lord?"

"I-I do not read romance novels, Sebastian. Leave the book in the drawing room for when I see Lizzy again," the young master snapped while looking away, somewhat nervously.

"I understand, but wouldn't Lady Elizabeth be pleased if you read one of her favorite books? Besides, a count should be well-versed in all types of literature," Sebastian placed his index finger to his lips. He could see a slight blush on the young count's cheeks.

"I said no," the young master ordered firmly, turning his chair halfway around.

"Very well, my lord. I will leave it where requested," after clearing his throat, the butler recited the planned activities for the afternoon to the young master.

Night fell and after dinner, a thirteen-year-old boy was tired from his hard work as the Phantomhive mansion's count. Sebastian escorted him to his chambers, assisted him in changing into his nightwear, and departed as soon as the count's breathing grew heavy. After approximately half an hour, the young man opened his eyes, got up and left his room to the first floor. Not even the flutter of a butterfly could be heard. He quietly entered the drawing room, where Sebastian was supposed to have left the book, and approached the table.

It wasn't there.

He felt a presence behind him that made him shiver.

"Looking for this, young master?" asked his butler as he held Miss Elizabeth's book in his hands.

"SEBASTIAN!" shouted the young man, once again underestimating his butler. "Yes, I was looking for it, give it to me." he ordered as he snatched the book from Sebastian's hands. Sebastian couldn't help but laugh.

"D-don't laugh!" exclaimed the angry young man. Embarrassed, with the book in his hands, he headed to his room.

"Ah, humans are truly interesting," Sebastian said out loud while recovering from his laughter.

The next day, the young master yawned during his riding lessons, which made Sebastian stricter with him.

"Did the reading keep you up, young master?" asked Sebastian in a mocking tone, but slightly annoyed. "If it continues like this, I'll have to be even stricter," he said as he slapped the animal's thigh, causing it to run off with the count on its back.

"Sebastian! WAIT! NO! AAaahh…" shouted the count as he tried to control the horse that was galloping at full speed. Sebastian grinned, amused by taking advantage of the young master.

A couple of days later, the Phantomhive earl left his mansion for London to inspect the toy stores branches of his company, accompanied by Sebastian. As he walked down the street, he heard a familiar voice behind him:

"Ciel?" someone called. He turned around and saw that it was Elizabeth.

"Lizzy?" the young lady's face lit up, and she ran to meet him. The count instinctively closed his eyes, waiting for his fiancée's embrace. But it never came. Elizabeth stood in front of him, making a polite bow with her maid, Paula. He snapped out of it and made a bow along with Sebastian, with a strange sensation.

"I'm so glad to see you here. Do you have business nearby?" the young lady asked.

"I was attending to some company affairs, and you?" the count replied.

"I came to pick up a bespoke dress I ordered for tonight's ball, but I stopped by to see the new toys you've put in the stores. Will you go tonight?" the young lady approached the young man with curiosity. Her eyes shone with the hope of an affirmative answer.

"Yes, I will. Moreover, I will come to fetch you before nightfall." The young master hated balls. He was as stiff as a tree branch, but he knew they were necessary for making new connections and, besides, his fiancée would be there. After hearing the count's reply, his fiancée's face lit up.

"Really? I can't believe it, how wonderful," she exclaimed, clapping her hands. "I'll get very pretty for you, Ciel." Inside, the young man wanted to tell her that she was always pretty, but he didn't. Between his bold thoughts and his fiancée's words, a small blush formed on the count's cheeks. Of course, Sebastian noticed it, but said nothing. Before the count could say anything, the young lady exclaimed:

"Oh! Ciel! Did I happen to leave a book at your mansion? I haven't seen it in days, and I remembered that I visited you recently." Lizzy looked up at the sky and took her chin with her right hand in a thoughtful expression. The young lady didn't dare ask if he had read the book, as she didn't think it would be to her fiancé's liking.

"Yes, you left it at the mansion, I was planning to give it to you today at the party," the young man replied.

"Great! Well, we have a lot to do with Paula before tonight's dance. See you, Ciel!" Elizabeth exclaimed effusively, taking Paula by the arm, leaving.

"Well, that was strange," Ciel said, voicing his thoughts aloud.

"Was it because she didn't jump on you as usual?" the butler asked, with a hint of jest. The young master sighed, adjusted his hat, and continued his way, confirming the butler's suspicions.

The evening was falling as the Count Phantomhive headed to the Midford’s mansion in his carriage. He was wearing one of the suits that Nina had tailored for him some time ago. While looking out of the window, Sebastian broke the silence.

"Young master, what did you think of Miss Austen's novel?" he asked, intrigued by the Count's response. The butler held Miss Elizabeth's book in his hands.

"I found it to be foolish," the young man snapped as he crossed his arms. "It's just a fantasy for women who aspire to marry an aristocratic nobleman who doesn't exist, keeping their hopes up. That doesn't happen in real life," he asserted as his right hand drifted through the air.

"And what do you think of Mr. Darcy?" the butler asked in response to such a statement. The Count was a very interesting human being, and Sebastian never missed an opportunity to learn from his behaviour.

"I find it ridiculous that Darcy abandoned his commitment for a commoner," the Count tilted his head to one side, "I mean, he had everything. A good life, studies, education, and he decided to throw it all away. It's stupid," the young man said as he closed his eyes in disgust. Sebastian looked at him with curiosity.

"Do you think feelings are foolish?" Sebastian asked to the air while arching an eyebrow. The Count opened his eyes and looked at his butler.

"Yes, they are. They interfere with the right decisions," he said firmly. Sebastian snorted. He knew that his master was telling the truth, but his actions in his life said otherwise. He had decided to stay with Snake, he had saved people on the brink of death, but above all, he had saved his fiancée more than once. He decided not to press the issue any further.

After some time had passed, they arrived at the Midford mansion. It was appropriate for the young aristocrats to pick up their fiancées to attend the ball. As he descended from the carriage accompanied by Sebastian, Elizabeth was waiting for them.

"Ciiiieeeeeel!" exclaimed the young lady effusively as she approached her fiancé. Just like the last time they had met; Elizabeth performed a small curtsy. "You look quite charming, Ciel." The young man wanted to compliment her on how beautiful she looked in her new dress, but, again, the words didn't come out as he noticed Elizabeth had not styled her hair into two pigtails as usual, but instead into a single bun pulled back. Loose curls fell down her shoulders and back. Sebastian noticed his master's surprise and smiled slightly.

"Miss Elizabeth, it's a pleasure to see you again," interrupted Sebastian before the young master could say anything while performing a bow. "Here is the book you left at the mansion during your last visit," the butler handed the book to the young lady.

"Oh! Thank you very much, Sebastian! Paula, please take it to my chambers," Elizabeth requested, while the maid took the book in her hands and curtsied.

"My dear nephew!" exclaimed the Marquess Midford, approaching and hugging his future son-in-law tightly.

"V-Viscount Midford, it's good to see you," said the young man trying to get out of the embrace.

"Dear!" retorted Frances, the young master's aunt. "Don't be rude," she scolded her husband. Behind her stood Edward, Elizabeth's older brother.

"Elizabeth, Aunt Frances, Edward, it's lovely to see you," the young man performed a bow to the family. Everyone was dressed formally for the party.

"Ciel," greeted Edward, crossing his arms.

"We're on time, but we'll need two carriages," said the aunt, indicating that it was time to depart.

"I'll go with Ciel!" exclaimed Elizabeth.

"A-and I'll go with Ciel too!" replied Edward. "I can't leave my little sister alone with him."

"I'll accompany them, Master Edward. I'll escort you to the party," said Sebastian while performing a bow.

"Very well," said Frances. "You'll come with us, Edward."

"WHAT?" protested the young man incredulously.

"Edward, don't be rude!" Elizabeth responded. The earl quickly exhausted his energy with his fiancée's family. Everyone had a such a unique personality. After the servants bid the family farewell in unison, the family and the couple boarded their respective carriages and departed.

Elizabeth and her fiancé were sitting together in the carriage, conversing about the events of the past few days. Despite his reserved demeanor, the young Earl always added interesting comments to the conversation and was paying close attention to every word his fiancée uttered. After all they had been through together on the Campania, they had learned to be more open and honest with each other.

Time flew by quickly. The Grenville mansion was located on the outskirts of London, so there was no need to stay at his second residence. The bright entrance dazzled guests as they arrived, contrasting with the dark colors that loomed in the sky. Once the Earl, his fiancée, and his family got out of the carriages, the butler approached the young master stealthily and whispered in his ear:

"Young master, please forgive my boldness, but an English gentleman should always praise his fiancée before a dance," the young man looked at him angrily.

"I already know," he snapped.

"The carriage will be waiting outside when you want to leave. I must go and take care of the mansion and ensure that everything is in order." Sebastian made a bow, bidding farewell to the family, got into the carriage, and left.

"Shall we enter, Lizzy?" said the Earl as he offered his arm to his fiancée. Elizabeth smiled.

"Delighted!" And so, they entered the grand mansion.

As expected, the salon was huge. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating most of the room. Other lights and candles accompanied the illumination. The women wore striking and beautiful dresses of different designs and colors, while the men wore formal but elegant dark-colored suits. The live orchestra could be heard throughout the ballroom from behind the curtains, playing classic songs from that era, preparing to play the first dance songs. Elizabeth couldn't contain her excitement at such a scene, loving the pretty dresses and heels.

"Ah! It's so beautiful, Ciel," she said with excitement, her eyes shining as she brought her hands to her face in a charming way.

"Of course," the Earl said, although he hated balls. He wouldn't go if it were up to him, and if he had to go, he would like to be a flower in a vase. The real reason he had attended? During the Count Ridley's party in Brighton, which he had attended with Elizabeth, she expressed her desire for him to invite her to these types of events more often since he didn't do it regularly. The young man replied that he would consider it for the future. Nevertheless, he believed that it was a bunch of aristocrats saying useless things. And on the other hand, his coordination was terrible. He had dance lessons with Miss Maryerl every week, but he simply didn't like it. Even so, he had worked hard to improve, not only to dance with his fiancée but also to show that he was a true English gentleman to society and not be the laughingstock.

"To Aunt Ann, these parties were a delight," Elizabeth recalled with nostalgia.

"Yes, she was the center of attention at these parties," her fiancé replied, smiling slightly and nodding his head. "Shall we get something to drink, Elizabeth?" he suggested. As they headed towards the nearest table, the Earl came across a familiar silhouette.

"Lau?" the Earl exclaimed in surprise.

"Oh, Earl Phantomhive!" the manager of the Shanghai branch of the Kong-Rong Trading Company responded joyfully. He was, as always, accompanied by his "little sister," Ran-Mao, who nodded her head in greeting.

"What brings you here?" the Earl asked.

"Well, you know, business here, business there," the Chinese man commented with a melodic intonation.

"I see," the young Earl replied, looking around for familiar faces from the underworld.

"And she is… Ah! Miss Elizabeth! It's a pleasure to see you, you look splendid tonight," Lau said, bowing.

"Lau, Ran-Mao, it's nice to see you again," Elizabeth responded, bowing in return.

"New hairstyle? It looks excellent, I didn't recognize you," Lau noted.

"Y-yes, thank you for noticing," the young woman replied, touching the curls that fell on her shoulder. Ran-Mao approached to touch her curls out of curiosity. While Elizabeth talked with Ran-Mao about her dresses and the evening, Lau approached the Earl and whispered in his ear, "Young Phantomhive, take care of what's yours or it could be taken away. There are many young men in this room willing to dance with your fiancé tonight," Lau said in a teasing tone. The young Earl glared at him.

"Don't meddle in my affairs," he replied.

"Ah! There's that look, as expected of the Earl," Lau said, shrugging his shoulders. "It was a joke, a joke, don't take it so seriously, haha," the merchant laughed.

They were discussing business when the Earl Grenville arrived to welcome them.

"Earl Phantomhive! Mr. Lau! It's a pleasure to see you in my humble home," the host of the soirée said. "I hope you have a wonderful evening; I was waiting for your arrival."

"Thank you very much for the invitation," the Earl replied, bowing.

"Now that you have arrived, shall we begin the dance, don't you think? You are our special guest, could you do us the honor of performing the opening dance?" the young Earl froze like a stone. If he already didn't like to dance, it was worse in front of an audience. He could feel a small smile on Lau's face, but he didn't look at him, he had to remain polite. Besides, the Earl of the Phantomhive family had to live up to these requests. He felt Elizabeth's gaze on him.

"It would be an honor," the Earl replied.

"Marvelous! I'll go give the welcome speech, if you'll excuse me." The host walked away from them until he reached the stairs of the hall, where he greeted the guests and wished them a good evening. At the end of his speech, he announced that the opening dance would be performed by Earl Ciel Phantomhive. All the guests applauded and looked at him, who was near the entrance. The young man approached his fiancé, and as he extended a hand, he asked, "Lady Elizabeth, would you do me the honor of dancing with me?" His fiancé felt her heart racing with excitement.

"Delighted!" she replied enthusiastically.

The two young people made their way to the center of the ballroom to begin the dance. Although the earl tried to hide it, he was nervous. He had to show all the aristocrats there that he was competent enough to perform something as trivial as a dance. Still, in his head, he could hear and feel Sebastian judging him with a small smile, which annoyed him greatly. To get rid of these intrusive thoughts, he took a deep breath and gazed fixedly at his fiancée before bringing her close to his body. With his right hand, he encircled his fiancée's waist, while she placed her arm on his shoulder. His left hand took hers and raised it up. Elizabeth felt her fiancé's determined gaze on her and blushed with tenderness. As the music began, they both started dancing a beautiful waltz while they made their way around the circle of people surrounding them. Elizabeth seemed to float with excitement. She never took her eyes off her fiancé. They were almost the same height, so looking at him wasn't difficult, but she couldn't escape his gaze either. That deep blue eye and the patch that covered the eye that the flames engulfed three years ago. She had never wanted to ask him what had happened that day. She believed it was too painful to remember. She didn't deny that she had tried multiple times, but perhaps deep down, she feared knowing the truth.

The earl's decisive and precise steps made it seem like he had been dancing for years. Elizabeth knew her fiancé didn't like to dance, but she knew he was trying to appear as a man within society, before all the spectators' eyes. After all, she was also doing her part by not wearing heels. In fact, for brief moments, he seemed a bit taller than her.

They performed perfect turns and didn't bump into any guests. As the song changed tone, the guests began to join them in the waltz, with them in the center.

"I wish we could freeze time forever," the young woman thought.

After a final turn, the song ended with a sudden cut. All the guests applauded in amazement. The earl felt Edward's fierce gaze and the approval of his uncles. With one hand, he led his fiancée out of the dance circle.

"Earl Phantomhive, that was truly impressive," Lau said, applauding when the couple reached his side.

"This was nothing," said the earl smiling, but immediately excused himself and went outside to the patio. Elizabeth felt worried at such action, had she upset him again?

When the young man was outside, he touched the marble railing that overlooked the garden and let out a deep sigh.

"Ah… what a spectacle, everyone was gazing at us dancing, and Elizabeth… Elizabeth…" thought the Earl with flushed cheeks as he gasped for breath. He thanked the universe that Sebastian hadn't seen him in those moments of vulnerability.

"Ciel?" he heard Lizzy's voice behind him. "Are you okay?" The Earl quickly turned around.

"Ah! Lizzy! I'm sorry, I needed some fresh air," he said as he tried to control his ragged breath. His fiancée arrived at his side, leaned her lower back against the marble structure, and looked inside the mansion with a sad expression. The two fell silent as they calmed their breathing.

"I'm sorry for bringing you here, Ciel," the young woman commented to the air, smiling nervously, and looking at her hands, "I know it's not your thing, and you always agree to do what I say to make me happy," her bangs slowly covered her eyes. She knew her fiancé didn't like dancing, attending these stupid balls, or talking to aristocrats. She felt guilty. Every time she tried to cheer him up, she ended up putting him in an uncomfortable position. The Earl was confused, where had she gotten such ideas? He separated from the railing to look at her.

"Lizzy, look at me," the Earl ordered as he took one of her hands, "You don't bother me," the Earl responded, softening his features in his face, because he had hurt her with his reluctant attitude. He meant it. Yes, his fiancée's overwhelming energy and emotions could create chaos, and they could sometimes have some arguments, but he really appreciated everything she did for him. She was the light in the darkness in which he was immersed. "If I do something with you, it's because I really want to do it," the young man said sincerely. "Is that why you've been distant today? Because you think you are bothering me?" the young Earl asked.

"I-I—," the words wouldn't come out of the young woman's mouth. She tried to hold back her tears, but she couldn't help the drops that accumulated at the corners of her eyes. She hated herself for it because she knew Ciel didn't like weeping girls. "I always bring you problems, Ciel," she began to say, "I wanted you to see that I have matured, that I'm not a girl anymore. I don't want to keep bothering you, causing you problems, or even embarrassing you," oh, now the Earl understood. They both tried to make the other happy. He let out a sigh and brought his right hand to his fiancée's face. With his thumb, he wiped away the beautiful tears that were flowing from her emerald eyes.

"Lizzy, you don't cause me any problems, let alone embarrass me…" the Earl took the young woman's chin and made her look at him, "so you can keep being who you are, okay?" Elizabeth nodded. The Earl pulled out a handkerchief from his suit and gently wiped away the traces of tears. "Don't cry anymore, you'll ruin how beautiful you look today with that hairstyle," he said. Ah, he had said it. His fiancée always brought out his most vulnerable side.

"D-do you mean it, Ciel? Do you think I look pretty?" Elizabeth asked curiously, leaning closer to the young master's face. At such an action, he blushed.

"Of course, you look pretty, you always look pretty," the young man said without thinking. His own words made him blush even more. Ahh, again, he was grateful that Sebastian wasn't with him at that moment. He would surely laugh in his face. But he didn't want to think about his butler at that moment. He was with his fiancée after all. The person he would protect without hesitation.

"You make me so happy, Ciel," Elizabeth said seconds before hugging him tightly. Instead of staying still, the young man wrapped his arms around her and dropped his head on her shoulders. A feeling of tranquility invaded him.

They returned to the dance. The earl invited his fiancée to dance several times, even though his feet hurt from doing so. Elizabeth was exhausted. She danced and shared the whole evening with her fiancé and the other guests until Elizabeth's parents decided it was time to leave.

The carriages were waiting for them. As his fiancée's family headed to the carriage, the earl gently stopped his fiancée before she continued forward. Elizabeth turned around and looked at him directly.

"Lizzy, I must confess that I did read the book you left at the mansion," he said as he cleared his throat and looked out into the horizon.

"Really? I didn't expect you to read a silly romance book," Elizabeth responded.

"Is it one of your favourite books, am I mistaken?" the young man asked.

"Well, it is," Elizabeth said somewhat excitedly and embarrassed that her fiancé had read something like that. "What did you think of it?" she asked.

"It's nonsense," her fiancé replied.

"Fufu, I knew it, Ciel," she said with a small laugh. "It's not your type of reading at all!"

"No, it's not. However," the earl paused as he looked into her eyes. "I think after dancing with you tonight, I can understand Darcy's feelings for Elizabeth a little more," the young man said, smiling shyly. Usually, he was the one who blushed at his fiancée's displays of affection. But he was not someone who showed his love physically, but rather with actions and words. This was one of them. Elizabeth blushed at her fiancé's words.

"W-what do you mean, Ciel?" Lizzy brought her hands to her cheeks. Her fiancé sighed as he closed his eyes.

"May I escort you to the carriage, milady?" the earl asked politely, offering her his arm.

The Earl helped his fiancée into the carriage and said goodbye to the rest of her family. The carriage started moving and Elizabeth waved goodbye to him from the window. Sebastian was waiting for him with the carriage ready.

"How was your evening, milord?" asked Sebastian, bowing in greeting to his young master.

"Excellent," said the young Earl, smiling as he got into the carriage. Sebastian followed him.

The night was cool. During the ride, the Earl fell into a deep sleep, while a gentle waltz melody filled his mind. Sebastian noticed his young master was tired but had a soft and warm expression that would have produced tenderness if he wasn't a simple one hell of a butler.

*A/N: In one part, I mention Brighton's mansion. Please refer to the game Kuroshitsuji: Phantom & Ghost for further information. In my universe, that game is canon cause there is a lot of material for o!cielizzy XD. That's where I got o!Ciel's thoughts about taking Elizabeth to dance, hehe >w< (he says explicitly that he'll take consideration on Elizabeth's request).

Heyo~, hope you sweeties enjoyed this new chapter. OMG, I've been struggling for more than a week to finish this. It takes a lot of work to get into the minds of the character's creators (Yana Toboso). Of course, I can create situations in which we have already seen how a character reacts in canon in order to replicate their behavior in a similar way, but what happens when it's situations we haven't seen frequently, like a dance, the thoughts about a book, or deeper displays of affection from another character? (a.k.a. Elizabeth)?? I asked myself all that during this week. That's why I sincerely hope Ciel's attitude makes sense to you and that it didn't turn out as OOC (out-of-character) and, above all, that you liked it!

Please, leave a comment if you are so kindhearted;w; See you~

Thanks for reading, you can find this work on AO3!

[kingdaddydaichi]

🖤 title: raze & level

🖤 pairing: yuuji itadori x f!reader

🖤 wc: 6.4k

🖤 song: "seventh" - bosco

🖤 cw: mdni, nsfw, characters aged up 21+ as per usual, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, alcohol consumption, fluff

🖤 an: i adore yuuji for many reasons, but one of the main ones has to be because of the way he blends and balances warmth and kindness with conviction and fierce passion

🖤 banner fanart by @victoriacapo

Yuuji raised his head off of his pillow and reached for his phone. It was late, but when he saw your name on the screen, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. Did I wake you up?” you asked softly.

Yuuji yawned. “Nuh-uh. What’s up?”

“Can I come over?” Your voice wavered. “I know it’s late, but I really need to not be alone right now.” It was obvious you were crying.

The pink-haired male sat up, his brow furrowing as he switched the phone to his other ear. “You okay? Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, I can drive. Are you sure it’s okay, Yuuji? I don’t wanna impose-”

“Of course, it’s okay,” he interrupted.

“Alright.” You sighed. “I’m leaving my place now.”

“See ya soon. Be careful.”

“Thank you. You’re amazing, Yuu.”

I’m amazing. Right. Yuuji dropped his phone on his chest and dragged his hands down his face, groaning. He had a sneaking suspicion as to what you were upset about. That, or he was struck with another bout of wishful thinking.

You’d texted him 3 separate times already this week about your douchebag of the month. Yuuji knew the bro code and therefore also knew that in your mind you were dating the douchebag, but in reality he’d just been toying with you, leading you on with little more than crumbs - just enough to make sure if he called or texted that you’d be there waiting for him with open legs. 

Yuuji wished he could tell you that. Well, he had told you that - in so many words - about the fuckboy you dated a couple of months ago. He didn’t even have to meet the guy to know he was just using you for sex, and he told you as much. He’d hoped you’d open your eyes to the truth instead of blinding yourself with whatever it was you wanted to see. But it backfired. 

You got so mad at him that you didn’t speak to him for over 2 weeks. “Damn it, Yuuji! Why’re you acting like a jealous boyfriend all of a sudden?” you’d said before storming out of his apartment. 

Now, as much as it pained him to watch the girl he was secretly in love with pine for some dude who didn’t deserve to lick the dirt off her shoes, Yuuji hadn’t wanted to say or do anything that would jeopardize what he had with you. He reasoned that having you in his life as a friend was better than not having you around at all, though he wanted much, much more. 

But he’d been doing some thinking and decided that he’d rather you hate him if it meant you’d stay away from the fuckboys and find someone else who would love you even half as much as he did. Besides, he had fallen even more in love with you since then and the pain was getting worse. 

His heart ached every time your hand so much as grazed against his. The way you leaned against him sometimes when he made you laugh made his heart beat faster for you. You’d probably never know how many times he’s wanted to pull you into his arms and kiss you until you felt all the love he harbored for you.

You knocked on his door and heard his voice call out from inside. “Door’s open!”

He’d left his door unlocked for you, as he always did. You walked in to find your best friend standing up from the couch. He stretched his arms over his head, his shirt lifting just enough to expose his lower abs and black happy trail. The black waistband of his underwear peeked out from the top of his light grey sweats. He greeted you in the middle of a dramatic yawn before shuffling into his kitchen.

“Thanks for letting me come over, Yuuji. I’m sorry it’s so late.”

He waved your apology away. “Don’t worry about it. I couldn’t sleep anyway.” 

“I just found out he’s been fucking someone else on the side.”

About fucking time you figured it out, Yuuji thought. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s honey whiskey. “So, another one bites the dust, huh?”

Before he could turn around you’d already wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned your head against his back, crying. “I just don’t get it, Yuuji. What’s wrong with me? I can’t figure out if I’m too much or not enough-”

He spun around and grabbed you by the shoulders, the severe look in his eyes catching you off guard. He was grinding his teeth, his jaw flexing as he stared down at you, his brow knitted in frustration. Sukuna’s eyelids had always made him look more tired than he was. 

“What?” you asked, the rest of the words on your tongue forgotten.

He let go of your shoulders and stepped outside of your reach. You watched as he leaned against the opposite countertop, unscrewed the cap from the whiskey bottle, and took a long, hard swig. 

You slowly took the bottle from his outstretched hand and took a pull of whiskey while watching him rub his eyes with his palms, realizing that your friend seemed a little worse for wear as well. 

“What’s going on, Yuu? I can tell something’s eating at you,” you said, passing the Jack Daniel’s back to him.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose before forcing the most convincing smile he could muster. “Nah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before speaking. “Bullshit. I know the difference between your real smile and your fake one. You know I hate it when you pretend like everything’s okay when I know it’s not.” 

He averted his eyes and took another drink. 

“What’s wrong, Yuuji? Talk to me.”

Before you stood a man with nothing to lose. He’d already decided he would confess to you the next time you came crying to him over some loser who had hurt you. He was sick of seeing you brokenhearted, knowing that he would make you the happiest girl in the world if given half a chance. 

And he was tired of hurting too. You had no idea you’d broken his heart, one hairline crack at a time. 

He knew everything was about to change between you. But it was worth everything to him to risk the loss of your presence from his life - his world - if it meant that you could ultimately be happy and properly loved by someone else. 

Fuck it, he thought. It’s now or never. He took another heavy swallow of liquor. You were about to tell him to stop bogarting the booze when he finally began to talk. 

“Alright, you want the truth? Here it is. You’re fucking gorgeous, (Y/n), and anyone who can’t see or appreciate that and all the other beautiful things about you is the one who’s not enough!” He pointed at you with the bottle in his hand. “And if you’re too much of anything, it’s your light! From the moment I laid eyes on you, you’ve blinded me and I can’t see anyone else! You’re fucking perfect, they don’t deserve you, and I love you!” 

Your heart leapt into your throat, making it difficult to breathe. As did his. He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud.

He looked away before hazarding a glance at you from the corner of his eye, your face clearly indicating your astonishment. “Not that it matters to you.” He took another swig from the bottle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, teeth clenching from the burning in his throat.

“It does matter to m-“

He interrupted you. “I don’t even care if you hate me and never wanna talk to me again after this! But as your friend I’m not gonna stand by and keep my fucking mouth shut anymore while you get treated like some shithead’s pocket pussy! You need to know the truth because you deserve so much better! If you were my girl I’d treat you like a real man should!”

“Then step the fuck up already and make me your girl, damn it!”

“Fine! Wait what?” Surely he hadn’t heard you correctly. He looked down at the label in his hand. Must be the whiskey, he thought.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say those words? Hm? How many times I’ve thought about how much happier I’d be with you?”

It was meant to be a rhetorical question, but he answered anyway. 

“I- I didn’t know.” His softer voice had returned, though raspy from the liquor and the yelling. “How long?”

You picked at the cotton cuff of your hoodie sleeve. “Since the first time I saw you.”

He set the honey whiskey aside and took a step towards you. “Why didn’t you say something to me?”

“You were already dating someone, Yuuji! Even after you broke up I thought you only saw me as a friend. You've never even hinted at anything else!”

“Are you mad at me?”

“A little, yeah. All this time I’ve been fighting my feelings for you just to find out you’ve been too chickenshit to make a move while simultaneously getting my heart broken by fuckboys when I could’ve been with you all along!”

He took another step towards you, glancing at your lips.

“I didn’t wanna ruin our friendship.” He put his hands on your shoulders and slid his thumb along the curve of your neck. Just a subtle touch from him set your skin ablaze. “But I guess now we both know things can’t stay the same anymore.” He furrowed his brow, his eyes still locked on yours, and sighed. “Even if we could forget this conversation ever happened, my heart wouldn’t and if my honesty destroys everything then so fucking be it.”

You thought for a moment, swirling your fingers in a circle along his forearm. “Well. If we’re gonna raze our friendship to the ground,” you said, looking up at him with daring eyes, “we might as well go all out.”

His hands slid down your back and waist before stopping on your hips.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his eager eyes nervously searching yours.

“I really wish you would,” you said. 

His hands cupped your face, his thumb wiping your last tear away. He was in awe of you, admiring the way your eyes slid shut as you leaned into his touch. His sweet breath tickled your cheek, the scent of a charred oak barrel warm against your skin.

Your hearts pounded, your knees felt weak. The whole world stopped moving when Yuuji softly slotted his lips with yours. You matched his pressure and moved your lips with his, the heat between you melding you together with this one kiss. 

Your heavy eyelids opened to find yourself trapped by his adoring gaze.

How was it that he found himself standing in front of you like this? With your hands gripping his broad shoulders and his face mere inches from yours, watching as you licked the taste of his kiss from your lips, sending that familiar ache straight to the base of his spine. 

He looked into your eyes, searching your soul for even a hint of hesitation, but instead found a fire that burned only for him. 

You stood on your tiptoes and pulled him down to you by the fistsful of his t-shirt as your lips crashed together. Your hands slid into his hair as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He wrapped his strong arms around your body, squeezing you tightly just as you rolled your tongue over his. 

You gasped when your back was forced against the wall behind you. Yuuji deepened the kiss, his intensity growing in direct proportion to your urgency. 

He pressed himself against you, the shape of his stirring cock obvious against the crease of your leg. You rolled against him, your hip catching the sensitive head through his sweats, making him groan in your mouth. He filled his hands with your ass and squeezed, pulling your lower half tighter against him, craving more of your body’s friction against his growing erection. 

You tugged at his white t-shirt before pushing it up to his chest, urging him to take it off. The first time you saw Yuuji without a shirt on you thought that if you ever got the opportunity you were going to cop a feel of his perfect six pack. Well, now was your chance. 

His warm, soft skin goosebumped under your touch as you explored his twitching muscles and the dips between them. The small patch of hair on his broad chest tickled your fingers, his heart pounding within as he peeled his shirt off for you, teeth clashing as he dove back into your kiss.

Yuuji unzipped your hoodie and pushed it off your shoulders, leaving you in your tank top, braless, your nipples already standing at his attention. Part of him wanted to rip your clothes off, but the bigger part of him wanted to savor this, to indulge in every little step towards the demise of your platonic relationship. In case this was to be the only time his hands would roam your body freely he wanted to take his time and commit every inch of you to his memory.

Your fingers began to play at the top of his sweats, the hair beneath his navel tickling your knuckles. Yuuji gripped the underside of your thighs and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist, the warmth of his skin burning against the insides of your thighs. He carried you to his living room and laid you down in the comfortable spot he’d occupied when you walked through his door.

He leaned over you, pitching a prominent tent in his sweats. You shifted and squirmed, positioning your slit against his engorged cock. With his tongue swirling around yours, he cupped his hand under one of your breasts before giving it a slow, firm squeeze. Your back arched, your pebbled tits jutting out and beckoning him for more of his touch. 

Yuuji slipped one of his hands beneath your loose fitting tank, squeezing your nipple between his fingers as his warm hand slid over one of your soft tits. He pulled away from your kiss to help lift your top over your head before tossing it over his shoulder and licking his lips. Your whole future flashed in his honey brown eyes as they took you in and drank you down. 

“Is this okay?” Yuuji asked, still dry humping you as the back of his fingers traced along your jaw. 

You smiled and nodded, answering him with a breathless “yes”.

You could hardly believe this was happening. Here you were with your best friend, Yuuji Itadori - his godlike body hovering above you with your back on his couch. His slow hands touching your searing skin, dipping his head down to lavish your nipple with his tongue, his pink hair tickling the most sensitive spots on your neck. 

He rolled his hips against you, his clothed cock rubbing against your slit with every stroke. Knowing he was this hard for you made you even wetter for him, though you wondered if you’d be able to take him all the way. Even through the thick fabric of his sweats, now with a darkened wet spot from his leaking tip, you’d accurately surmised that Yuuji was well-endowed and you were done waiting to touch him. 

He moaned when your fingertips blazed along the skin above his boxer briefs. 

“(Y/n)...are you sure you mmmmmmm…” He completely lost the ability to speak when your hand slipped inside his underwear and found his hot cock. You coated his thick tip with his pre, massaging it as more leaked out, slowly working the clear fluid along his length with your fist. “Fuuuck…” Yuuji’s head dropped to the crook of your neck, his fingers digging into the plush of your hips. “…feels so good, (Y/n)...touching me like this.”

Your clit buzzed as Yuuji fucked his cockhead into your hand, his clothed shaft grinding down along your slit. Through the thin material of your shorts you could feel the thick vein underneath his cock rolling over your swollen bud. “Yuuji…”

He hummed. 

“Want you t’touch me too,” you cooed.

Slipping his hands between your bare legs somehow felt wrong to him until you reached down and grabbed his wrist, guiding him closer to your moist heat. Still grinding against you he slipped his fingers inside the leg of your shorts. You bit your lip to keep from crying out when his knuckles grazed your wet slit. 

“You’re not wearing any panties?” 

Having lost the ability to speak, you shook your head no. 

He smirked. “Didn’t expect that.” His calloused index and middle fingertips glided over your slippery clit. “Mmm…damn, (Y/n), you’re already so wet for me,” he whispered into your mouth. 

You sighed when he slid his middle finger inside you, your fingertips digging into his arm. Your best friend was going to make you fall apart all around him - right along with your friendship.

Yuuji was knuckle-deep inside your pussy, reaching diligently for that unmistakable rough pad of flesh just inside. The head of his hard cock rubbing his wet spot against your clit.

“Yuuji…” you gasped, thighs squeezing around his ribs as you pushed the waistband of his sweats down with your toes. “Need to feel more of you. P-please.” 

He reached between you and pushed his sweats down to his athletic thighs. You moaned at the sight of his long, thick cock bouncing in its freedom. Licking your lips, you watched as a fresh bead of his precum drooled from the tip. A couple of prominent veins adorned his shaft and his dark pink tip peeked out of his foreskin. He throbbed in your hand as you pulled the sheath of skin back to expose his cockhead. 

Yuuji noticed you staring and smirked, feeling a little shy when you looked up at him again. You moved your shorts to one side for him, letting his bare cockhead kiss your clit. So close to coming already, your heels dug into the backs of his thighs. You swore between gritted teeth at how good it felt when he added his ring finger to tug on your sweet spot. 

You squirmed under him, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts of his fingers. He moaned at the sensation of your soft walls closing in around his digits. He smirked against the curve of your neck, kissing and grazing his teeth along your sensitive skin.

“Is it okay if I make you come?” Yuuji’s breath was uneven against your dampening skin. 

“Oh god yes Yuuji,” you gasped in his ear. 

“That’s it, come for me (Y/n)…”

”Yes…oh fuck…Yuuji!”

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, unrelenting in his ministrations.

Your fingertips dug into his bare, wide shoulders when the coil within you snapped.

Yuuji’s heart felt so full when you came apart around his fingers. He knew you needed to feel safe - physically and emotionally. So honored that you trusted him to be there, keeping you close and letting you ride out your orgasm as you ground your weeping slit against his throbbing cock. 

When your waves of pleasure subsided, he slowly withdrew his fingers and licked them before wiping them on his abs. Your eyes remained closed, chest rising and falling as he settled between your legs to be closer to you. He placed a couple of tender kisses on the side of your face, making you smile. 

“Damn, Yuuji…” 

He hummed against your jugular as his hot breath fanned across your throat.

“I haven’t been able to come like that in so long…” Your eyes opened to find him looking at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His kind eyes reflected back to you all the love and admiration he felt for you. You put your hand on his face, bringing him closer to kiss him. 

Yuuji slid his body further down between your legs, kissing and nipping at your tits and navel and hips as he went. He kissed along your inner thigh, burning a slow trail to your sex before pushing the crotch of your soaked shorts to the side. You looked down to find his lust blown eyes staring into yours with a fire in them you’d never seen before. 

“Yuuji, you don’t have to-ohhhhfuck.” 

His pretty lips closed around your clit as your head fell back onto the couch. You whined and moaned, squirming under his tongue as he lapped at your swollen pink bud. You were close to coming again when he pulled away, tugging urgently at your shorts before yanking them off your legs, rendering you completely naked. 

“Mmm you taste amazing, (Y/n).” 

He dove back in, lapping and licking and suckling at your clit while he slipped his skilled fingers back inside to play with your g-spot. Typically you’d be too sensitive this soon after an orgasm to handle this much stimulation, let alone to find yourself on the precipice of another one.

But Yuuji’s tongue felt so damn good swirling and flicking, teasing your lips, kissing and sucking on your twitching clit. Hands down the best head you’d ever had. It was as though your pussy was the first body of water his tongue had found after seeking it in the desert for centuries, hellbent on devouring every last drop. 

You balled your fists into his pink hair, riding against his face with little regard for his comfort. Not that he paid any mind. He’d die a happy man a million times over if it meant suffocating between your trembling thighs.

“Y-yuuji-“

He closed his eyes and hummed, putting every ounce of focus into your pleasure. He rutted against the couch cushion on instinct, his leaking precum puddling into a dark spot on the fabric.

“Oh-hmmm…Yuuji? M’gonna come again!” you whined. 

With the fingers of one hand gripping his upper arm and the other in his hair you braced yourself for the boulders of ecstasy that began to tumble through your bones. The heels of your bare feet provided little more than a massage against Yuuji’s muscular back when they dug in.

He relished the pain of your fingers tugging at his hair, twisting his powder pink locks in your fist while the other left fresh crescent moons in his tricep. But the sound of his name, his name - Yuuji - falling from your addictive lips just one more time was, to him, worth all the pain and suffering the world had to offer. 

His fingers were still slowly rubbing the inside of your honeyed walls when he raised up to kiss you, your distinct flavor lingering on his tongue. 

Yuuji sat up before leaning back on his heels, his proud cock standing at full mast, aching for your attention. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, leaning towards you again only for his sweet brown eyes to widen when your hand pressed on his hard chest, pushing his back against the couch.

“Mm…wanna taste you…” You slurred your words in your pleasure-drunken state.

Yuuji’s hands gripped the cushions beside him when your teeth playfully grazed his collarbone. “Fuck, (Y/n)...” he groaned.

You sank down between his legs until your knees touched the floor beneath you. 

Yuuji pushed his bottoms down to his knees before working them off one leg at a time. He leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. He was nervous and comfortable at the same time - comfortable with you but nervous about whether or not you liked his body. He knew he had a decent physique - but did you like it? Then there were the scars. And that random birthmark on the back of his thigh. 

“I never thought I’d find myself in this position with you…” you mused, heat blossoming on the apples of your cheeks. 

“Me either,” Yuuji said. “But I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about it a thousand times.”

“You fantasize about me?” 

“Yeah?” Yuuji grimaced. “Do you think that’s creepy?”

“Not at all.” Yuuji pressed his fist against his forehead, watching as you kissed the scar next to his navel. You wrapped your nimble fingers around his cock and squeezed his thigh. “I’ve thought about you too while, you know…touching myself.”

Yuuji’s moan was low and deep, his warm pre rolling down along the underside of his shaft, daring you to taste it. “Y-you have?”

You hummed as you kitten-licked the broad head of his cock and giggled at the way Yuuji’s legs jumped. He tasted warm and salty like fresh cream, but better. One sample was all it took - you pulled his foreskin all the way back and swirled your tongue around his spongey tip. 

“Oh shit, (Y/n)…” he moaned. 

You licked along the underside of his glans, seeking every last drop of his flavor that had collected there. Yuuji observed, though struggling to focus through the searing heat that had been pooling at the base of his spine. 

You gracefully wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, stretching them around his girth. Yuuji thought he would lose his mind when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him in a little more. There was no way you could take all of him but you weren’t above choking on him to give him your best effort. 

You wanted every inch of Yuuji. You craved every drop of him. Every moan that poured from his lips. Every ounce of love that he had for you. Every beat of his heart through the pulse of his pretty cock. 

“Ohh fuuhhhh-” Yuuji’s eyes rolled back as they slid shut. The wet heat of your mouth, the drag of your sweet lips along his length as you bobbed up and down made his head spin. 

You did your damnedest to lick the ridge on the underside of his thick shaft with every pass. You gagged on him and he pulled himself out, his big brown eyes filled with worry and regret. 

“Shit, are you okay, (Y/n)? I shouldn’t hahhhfuuuck.” 

You took him deep inside your greedy mouth again, sucking and licking like a woman starved. 

“Ohshit, I-hmm…” He threaded his fingers through your hair, moving it to the side to preserve his view of your perfect face as you stuffed it with his cock. 

“(Y/n)...” 

You knew he was close by the way his balls had been spasming in your hand. 

“Oh damn…” Yuuji clenched his teeth, biting back the whimper that came dangerously close to erupting from his lips. 

“You might wanna…”

He’d never cum in a girl’s mouth before - no one had ever let him. He’d only ever been told that it’s “gross” and that “all cum tastes bad”. 

“…i-if you - ohhshit…”

But unlike them, you’d been eager for him to empty his balls inside your open mouth, to squirt his seed onto your waiting tongue to finally know how Yuuji Itadori tastes. 

“(Y-y/n)!” 

Yuuji threw his head back as his first powerful spurt, hot and bitter, coated the back of your throat. He was coming hard, grunting and squirming. But you kept right on pumping his length with your hand as he filled your suckling mouth. 

When he was spent you slowly pulled off of him, releasing him gently before looking up at him with a satisfied grin. His head was still resting on the back of the couch with his hands covering his eyes. You wiped away a small glob of his semen that had leaked from the corner of your lips before sucking it off your thumb. 

“Oh my god, (Y/n),” he panted. A light sheen of sweat glazed his perfectly sculpted torso, his chiseled chest rising and falling rapidly while his abs flexed and caved. 

He’d never looked sexier and you were aching between your legs again, your need leaving a wet spot on his thigh as you climbed onto his lap. 

You straddled Yuuji’s thighs and gasped when your slick smeared along his softening length. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you closer as you ground your wet clit against him, making him moan in your mouth at the overstim. His distinctly pungent flavor lingered on your tongue as it swirled and danced around his. 

“Yuuji,” you breathed, “need you so bad…please.”

His cock twitched back to life at the sound of your desperate words - things he’d only ever dreamed he’d hear drip from your lips like nectar into his mouth. 

He kneaded the fat of your hips and thighs, encouraging you to keep moving against him, his hardening cock nearly soaked from base to tip with your need. 

Your hands found purchase in his soft pink locks, your elbows resting on his shoulders with your arms curling over the back of his head. Your hopeless little moans breathing more life into his dick. You needed him. 

“You sure this is really what you want? I need to know for sure because I have feelings for you, (Y/n), and I don’t think there’s any going back for me after this.”

“…and I love you.” The words he’d spoken earlier echoed through the halls of your mind. 

“I don’t wanna go back. I’ve ignored my feelings for too long. I care for you too, Yuuji. N’want you.”

He threaded his fingers into your (h/l) hair and pulled you closer. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” His cock jumped against your sensitive pussy as if to agree with him. 

He helped you onto your feet before standing up in front of you, your wanton hands squeezing and pulling on his nearest body parts. Yuuji’s fingers were in your hair and his heart was in your hands. 

“Hold onto me. I’m taking you to my bed.” With an arm securely around your shoulders he swept you up - making you gasp - and carried you to his bedroom. 

“Really, Yuuji? Bridal style?” You giggled. 

“Damn right. You deserve to be treated like a queen.”

“Oh my god, Yuu! You’re such a cheesy romantic.”

“Shut up. You love it,” he said, laying you down on his cool, unmade sheets. 

You spread your legs and reached for him. He filled the space you made for him, nestling his warm hips between your burning thighs. 

You pulled him down into a deep kiss and whispered, “You’re right, I do love it.” Your focus briefly shifted as you remembered the guys who’d come before him and how they had spoken to you, the things they had said when placed in Yuuji’s position. “M’just not used to it.”

“That’s alright. You will be soon,” Yuuji said, tilting your chin up to meet his adoring gaze. 

You tried to fight it, but a rogue tear escaped from the corner of your burning eyes and rolled across your temple as your hands covered your eyes. “Stop it, Yuuji.” You smiled. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

He wrapped his tender fingers around your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face and shook his head. “I’ll never stop.” He kissed the tear from your temple. “Gonna keep doing what it takes to see you smile. M’gonna make you happy, (Y/n). M’gonna be the guy you talk about when you tell your other friends that you’re finally with someone who treats you right.” Yuuji rolled his languid hips, his hard cock gliding over your swollen clit. 

“Yuuji…” you whined, “please…fuck me.”

“Nuh-uh.” He kissed you slow and sweet. “M’gonna make love to you the way I’ve always wanted.” He chuckled at your pout and said, “Don’t worry - I’ll fuck you later, but -“ He reached between your legs and guided his leaking tip to your aching entrance. “-oh god Yuuji-“ “-I want our first time together to be special.”

Your back arched at the warm stretch of his large cockhead when he pressed it through your opening. His guttural groan softened into a quiet sigh as he sank deeper and deeper until his full length was buried inside you. You bit your lip, eyes locked on Yuuji’s when he started to move. 

“NnnYuuj- ahhhaah…hnnhh…” His girth offered the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt, filling you perfectly as he dragged it against your succulent walls.

“I’ve wanted you like this for so long.” His breath hitched as his hips, wet with your arousal, collided with yours, slow and strong. “Feels so good to -mmm- finally be inside you. Your pretty, tight pussy -god- sucking me in.” 

“Mmnhhfuck-“ You sighed. “Your cock feels so amazing.”

“Yeah? I’m not too big for you, am I?”

“No…” You kissed him, your wet tongues dancing between your open mouths. “You’re -hnnm- just right.”

The thick head of his cock kissed the opening of your cervix with each rock of his pelvis. He held onto your thigh as you locked your ankles under his butt. The bed began to creak when Yuuji threw his hips harder against the tender skin of your open legs, his lips grazing yours. 

He hooked a hand behind your knee, opening your thighs wider. He licked the pad of his thumb before pressing it to your clit, rubbing fast circles against it while dipping his slick-coated cock between your pussy lips. 

The pressure that had been building inside you began to collapse in on itself, the searing heat of your impending orgasm pooling into a smaller and smaller space. “Hnnmmm- Yuuji…”

He’d felt it too, the tightening of your core around him and decided that now was the time to start fucking you. 

You were closing in on him so hard and fast, your pussy clamping down so tight that it threatened to push him out. He fucked you harder, forcing his cock back inside you with every snap of his hips.The sound of skin slapping wet skin could just barely be heard over your loud moans and gasping of his name until all the pressure that had mounted within you finally erupted from its point of singularity. 

Yuuji fucked you through your orgasm, your pussy sucking him in so deep, the desperate sound of his name falling from your lips in broken whimpers - pushing him past the point of no return.

You didn’t complain about the overstim, didn’t stop him or even try to slow him down.

You watched him as he moved - the way his flexing arms, chest, and abs shimmered with sweat, the striation of every muscle beneath his skin. Your gaze zeroed in on his face, admiring his handsome features while his eyes were closed, lost in pleasure. 

The sight of Yuuji in the throes of passion, having lost all control, was beyond your wildest fantasies. You couldn’t have torn your eyes away even if you’d wanted to. 

“Fuck! I’m -mmm- so close!” his eyes screwed shut, face twisted in ecstasy.

You grabbed his undulating ass with both hands, squeezing and pulling him into you. “Come inside me, Yuuji,” you moaned.

His hips began to stutter, his violent thrusts becoming more and more erratic.

“(Y/n)! Oh god! I’m coming!”

He plunged his full length into you one last time, his moan echoing off his bedroom walls when his first release of seed spilled inside you. His cock jerked with every subsequent spend of his white hot cum until it began to ooze out around the base of his thick shaft, still buried deep inside your dripping cunt. 

With his palms flat against the sheets he held himself up, his sexy body hovering over you, chest heaving to catch his breath. The widest, goofiest open-mouthed grin you’d ever seen spread across his face as he slowly opened his eyes. You giggled. “Was it good for you, Yuuji?”

He huffed and nodded, still unable to form coherent thoughts. Just a big dumb smile was all he could manage quite yet. He looked so cute, so happy, and it was all because of you. 

He rolled off of you, his sticky seed gushing between your thighs when his softening cock slipped out. You turned over onto your belly as he wrapped a fatigued arm around your back and pulled your naked body flush with his. The kiss you shared was passionate yet unhurried. 

“So…do you think our friendship is ruined now?” he asked, stroking your arm.

Your heart blossomed in your chest and you smiled. “Nah. I think we just leveled up.”

Your legs were tangled with Yuuji’s, toes and feet mindlessly brushing against each other. Yes, this is what you wanted. So much so that your heart twisted, wanting so badly to hear him say those three little words to you again, but too scared to ask. 

What if he didn’t mean it? 

Yuuji opened his eyes and knew something was wrong by the way you averted yours.

His thumb brushed across your cheek. “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Your cheeks warmed with a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m okay.” 

He gave you a look that clearly said he wasn’t buying it. “C’mon, what is it, (Y/n)? Talk to me,” he said, his fingers playing with yours. 

You stopped chewing your lip and hid your face in the crook of his neck. “Did you mean it? When you said you love me?”

He hooked a finger under your chin, raising your head to look at him. He rolled onto his side, his chest pressed to yours. “Of course, I meant it.” His breath was hot against your cheek as he kissed it. “Still do.”

“Say it again, Yuuji? Tell me you love me?”

He raised up onto his elbow, those warm honey eyes gazing down on you as he interlaced his fingers with yours. “I love you, (Y/n).”

You cupped his adoring face in your hands, searching his eyes and finding a bottomless well of love inside them. “I love you too, Yuuji,” you confessed.

Yuuji smiled against your lips when you kissed him slow and sweet. Between the lazy shows of affection and in no hurry for any of it to end he thought, Finally.

[lifewouldbebetteronmars]

Title from Quarter Life Crisis by Taylor Bickett

Angstmas Days of Summer Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I Swear Sixteen Was Yesterday (But Now I’m Closer To Twenty-Eight)

Nineteen (September 1904)

Alastair hated his birthday. They had never really celebrated his birthday growing up, he didn’t have balloons and a gigantic birthday cake that he could eat until he got sick.

He had Risa’s love cake and whatever homemade thing Cordelia made for him-things he would cherish forever and kept hidden in a box under his bed, even now-maybe even a nice present from his parents if his father was sober enough to remember an actual present.

It wasn’t much, but his family was always together on birthdays and that was all he needed. He didn’t have to worry about pressures put upon his shoulders at such a young age, he could just be a little boy for once.

Alastair the boy had loved his birthday, but Alastair the man, hated his birthday.

Today he was utterly alone. He used to love that, a birthday of peace and quiet, but right now the silence was deafening.

His mother and Risa had gone out on errands and they would be gone until after dinner time, something about getting things for the baby.

So there would be no love cake or even a present, the baby came first and he understood that.

Cordelia was with her merry band of friends, same as she always was. She had said she would probably spend the night at the London Institute, something Alastair hadn’t liked. He brought up his concern about her and James sleeping so close together before the wedding, but Cordelia had simply laughed and told him not to be a worrywart before leaving.

She had outgrown giving him homemade presents years ago and she hadn’t even remembered his birthday anyway.

They used to be so close and sometimes he wondered what had happened to them, if it had been his own fault.

But anyway, now Alastair was alone, in the big house in Cornwall Gardens.

It was his own fault anyway, he argued to himself. He wouldn’t be so alone if he had just been nicer to others.

If he had been nicer and hadn’t repeated those rumors, maybe he would have friends to spend it with instead of spending it alone having a pity party for himself.

But he guessed it would be just another birthday of depressing thoughts and feeling sorry for himself. Another bad birthday, possibly the worst one yet.

He was planning on heading up to bed early when he heard a knock at the door. It wasn’t too loud, just loud enough to get his attention.

And as he got closer to the front door, he could hear feet shuffling away, as if to leave before he got there. Alastair rolled his eyes, of course there would be a prank on his doorstep.

But a prank isn’t what he saw when he opened the door.

It was a book. The Rubaíyat́ of Omar Khayyaḿ, to be specific, a well-loved copy of it with a maroon ribbon tied across the front. There was no one to be found, no hint of who sent the book to him.

A present? Alastair thought to himself but quickly brushed the thought off. There was nobody who would get him a present, even in London.

Not even Charles would bother to get him a present. Alastair doubted he even knew his birthday.

He took the book inside with a sigh, carefully untying the ribbon once he closed the door. He opened the book to inspect it and a note slipped out.

It read:

Alastair, I hope you’ve had a happy birthday. Enjoy the book.

There was no name attached to the note, but Alastair swore he could see a heavily erased T at the end. He didn’t dare to hope that “T” was the same man who‘s been occupying his thoughts as of late.

Alastair allowed himself to smile, sliding down the front door to sit.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst birthday, after all.

Thirty-One (September 1915)

Alastair hated his birthday. He once thought his nineteenth birthday to be worst one, but nothing compared to his thirty-first.

His birthdays now weren’t like they had been in his childhood. They were filled with love and light and laughter. Thomas always did his best to make sure Alastair had the best birthday he could possibly have, outdoing himself every year as they passed, in an attempt to make up for the all the terrible birthdays Alastair had.

There was love cake and sentimental birthday presents. Thomas had learnt the recipe specially from Risa and enlisted Sophie’s help to perfect it.

And every year, Thomas would gift him a book, just like the first year he anonymously did on Alastair’s nineteenth birthday. The book would be annotated by him and tied up with a maroon ribbon, every year without fail.

Those were their traditions. It didn’t include big birthday parties and birthday cake that he could eat until he was sick, it was simplistic and perfect, and it was there’s.

Thomas had made Alastair’s birthday something to look forward to.

But today, on his thirty-first birthday, Alastair was all alone in a way he hadn’t been in a very long time.

Today marked two months to the day that Thomas Lightwood died. It was sudden. He was on patrol and was injured severely, but the Silent Brothers had been sure he would pull through, that he would survive.

But they were wrong. They had missed something

One moment, Thomas had been talking quietly with him about something Grace had said the last time he was down in the lab and the next he’d been choking on his own blood, Alastair beside him and completely useless as he died.

Two months ago, Alastair watched the love of his life die in his arms as he begged for him to stay with him and not leave.

And now, two months later, it was his thirty-first birthday and he was alone, laying in his bed and staring up at the ceiling, clutching a well-loved copy of The Rubaíyat́ in his hands.

He couldn’t cry anymore, he’d cried himself silly at this point. He’d cried so much that he was just numb.

There would be no love cake or annotated books. No whispered endearments and sweet kisses.

He would always be alone on his birthday now, just as he had been what seemed like a lifetime ago.

Thomas had promised him ninety-years of perfect birthdays, even if it meant he had to live until he was a hundred and eight before he could succeed. Alastair had laughed at him then, but now he wished it could’ve been true.

Thomas had promised him ninety years and had only given him ten, ten years of perfect, happy birthdays.

Ten perfect birthdays wouldn’t be able to counteract more decades of lonely birthdays.

It had been so long that he’d been alone that he’d almost forgotten how it felt.

Ten perfect birthdays and now he was all alone again, right back where he started, thirty-one years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The song absolutely isn’t about your lover dying young, but this fic is *insert finger guns* Yes I think I’m funny

Tagging:

@tessherongraystairs @petalsofaflower-shutupthomas @littlx-songbxrd @wagner-fell @aliandtommy

[nikolasongsa]

When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald, In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field, He called to him Hobdenius—a Briton of the Clay, Saying: "What about that River-piece for layin' in to hay?"

And the aged Hobden answered: "I remember as a lad My father told your father that she wanted dreenin' bad. An' the more that you neeglect her the less you'll get her clean. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd dreen."

So they drained it long and crossways in the lavish Roman style — Still we find among the river-drift their flakes of ancient tile, And in drouthy middle August, when the bones of meadows show, We can trace the lines they followed sixteen hundred years ago.

Then Julius Fabricius died as even Prefects do, And after certain centuries, Imperial Rome died too. Then did robbers enter Britain from across the Northern main And our Lower River-field was won by Ogier the Dane.

Well could Ogier work his war-boat—well could Ogier wield his brand— Much he knew of foaming waters—not so much of farming land. So he called to him a Hobden of the old unaltered blood, Saying: "What about that River-piece; she doesn't look no good ?"

And that aged Hobden answered "'Tain't for me to interfere. But I've known that bit o' meadow now for five and fifty year. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but I've proved it time on ' time, If you want to change her nature you have got to give her lime!"

Ogier sent his wains to Lewes, twenty hours' solemn walk, And drew back great abundance of the cool, grey, healing chalk. And old Hobden spread it broadcast, never heeding what was in't— Which is why in cleaning ditches, now and then we find a flint.

Ogier died. His sons grew English—Anglo-Saxon was their name— Till out of blossomed Normandy another pirate came; For Duke William conquered England and divided with his men, And our Lower River-field he gave to William of Warenne.

But the Brook (you know her habit) rose one rainy autumn night And tore down sodden flitches of the bank to left and right. So, said William to his Bailiff as they rode their dripping rounds: "Hob, what about that River-bit—the Brook's got up no bounds ?"

And that aged Hobden answered: "'Tain't my business to advise, But ye might ha' known 'twould happen from the way the valley lies. Where ye can't hold back the water you must try and save the sile. Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd spile!"

They spiled along the water-course with trunks of willow-trees, And planks of elms behind 'em and immortal oaken knees. And when the spates of Autumn whirl the gravel-beds away You can see their faithful fragments, iron-hard in iron clay.

Georgii Quinti Anno Sexto, I, who own the River-field, Am fortified with title-deeds, attested, signed and sealed, Guaranteeing me, my assigns, my executors and heirs All sorts of powers and profits which—are neither mine nor theirs,

I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires. I can fish—but Hobden tickles—I can shoot—but Hobden wires. I repair, but he reopens, certain gaps which, men allege, Have been used by every Hobden since a Hobden swapped a hedge.

Shall I dog his morning progress o'er the track-betraying dew ? Demand his dinner-basket into which my pheasant flew ? Confiscate his evening faggot under which my conies ran, And summons him to judgment ? I would sooner summons Pan.

His dead are in the churchyard—thirty generations laid. Their names were old in history when Domesday Book was made; And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line Have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the Law calls mine.

Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies, Would I lose his large sound counsel, miss his keen amending eyes. He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer, And if flagrantly a poacher—'tain't for me to interfere.

"Hob, what about that River-bit ?" I turn to him again, With Fabricius and Ogier and William of Warenne. "Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but"—and here he takes command. For whoever pays the taxes old Mus' Hobden owns the land.

-The Land, "Diversity of Creatures"

[henry-etta]

[ ruby cruz, she/her, cis woman ] — was that HENRIETTA ETTA EATON? the TWENTY THREE year old is the DUCHESS of KNIGHTON, how exciting to see them this season! rumors have it they are TALENTED and CHARISMATIC, but i’ve heard they are OVERCONFIDENT and FLASHY as well — maybe that’s why they’ve been called the HOYDEN. I have even heard that SHE MUST FIND A SUITOR THIS SEASON TO SECURE HER LATE FATHER'S LINE — only time will tell.

name: Henrietta Etta Eaton

age: 23

birthday: March 31st

sign: aries

orientation: bisexual

family: Michael Eaton (father, deceased), Tamsin Eaton (mother)

title: Duchess of Knighton

label: The Hoyden

DUCHESS OF KNIGHTON — hoyden: a bold, and carefree girl; a tomboy

Henrietta was a peculiar girl from a very young age, as it was apparent to anyone who met her. It was, and continues to be, much to her mother’s dismay, but she tolerated it because it always made her father smile.

She was always loud and rambunctious, eager for play and adventure, happiest when she made others laugh. Still, she did as her mother instructed and stuck to her lessons, learning how to walk and talk properly, how to play the pianoforte, read the history of the nation, sew the perfect cross stitch. As the only child of the Duke of Knighton— much as they did try to have another— it was what was expected of her, to become the perfect, beautiful, well-rounded heir to be sought after. It should go rather smoothly by the time of her debut, considering how much status and money their family had, as long as Henrietta didn’t screw it up.

In her adolescence, she began to grow jealous of her male friends who would boast about fencing lessons, horseback riding, sailing, and the like. She knew she wouldn’t grow jealous for long, however, because as daddy’s little girl, all she had to do was smile just right, and her father convinced her mother to let her add those lessons into her curriculum. It would only make her more well-rounded and talented, right?

She had no problem in the dresses and corsets, or the speech lessons and etiquette, she liked it all half of the week. But the other half, she found herself enjoying walking out in trousers and learning how to shoot a rifle with her father just as much. It was a balance, and even if others might have thought it strange, it was what made her her. However, her mother’s last straw came at about fourteen.

One of the most beloved people in her world, her housekeeper Gabriela— who had been there the day she was born— often liked to go by Gabe, and Henrietta couldn’t stop turning over the feeling of envy and longing every time she heard that name. Sometime around this age, she went to her parents and asked to be called Henry. Her mother told her to stop being a fool at once, or the oddity would surely put her poor mother in an early grave. She rolled her eyes and conceded, but not before a compromise. From that day forward she requested to always be called Etta, and dared anyone else to try different. The name caught on, and she could leave the dreadful business of Henrietta behind.

Etta debuted two years ago, but without much pressure to secure a match and mostly just to get herself acquainted with the scene. She was already pretty familiar with the ton, but found it even more exciting to mingle and dance and socialize with everyone in their fanciest suits and most glittering jewelry. She reveled in the drama of it all, happy to get a smile and waltz out of anyone.

(tw: death) At the end of the last year, however, the fun halted to a stop when the Duke of Knighton suddenly passed. It must have been a stroke, the doctors said, but he passed in his sleep next to his beloved wife, leaving her behind and their only heir to the name and estate.

Etta has compartmentalized a fair chunk of her grief after wasting away in empty somberness for a month or two. She's tucked it away and returned to the bright and bold girl she was, though now with heavier shoulders as she learns all she can about her family's businesses and accounts. She and her mother know that much as she likes to mess around and make fun and smile at any pretty girl or guy, at the end of the season, Etta must grow up and find the husband that will take care of her family and the Knighton estate.

—

hello this is strud and my head is so empty by the time i get to connections so pls know i am up for anything and excited to figure out how everyone vibes!! i hope i didn't forget anything and i should post a plotting call soon ok goodnight

[welldonebeca]

Miss, PhD (IV)

WC: 1.3k words Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of tension. Meet cutes, maybe?

If you like my work, consider buying me a coffee or subscribing to my Patreon. It’s just $2 a month and helps a lot while I go through these hard times.

Masterlist

Steve was still in his mind as he paid for his part of the meal.

It was your birthday.

You were willingly spending your birthday alone in an Applebee’s.

You, the daughter of a famous billionaire that probably had millions in your name just as well.

It was… strange. Very weird.

“Everyone ready to go?” Bucky asked as the server cleaned their table.

He looked at his friends and then at the bartender.

Doctor Tinker.

He probably knew what that meant, right?

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he said quickly, stepping back.

Steve didn’t wait for what they would say, and moved to the empty bar, offering the barman a polite smile when he looked at him.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” he asked.

“Yes,” he confirmed quickly. “I couldn’t help but notice the nickname you gave Stark. I mean… Y/N,” he corrected himself. “Doctor Tinker?”

The dark haired bartender chuckled a little.

“Oh, yes,” he nodded. “My daughter came up with that.”

Steve blinked, even more confused now. His daughter?

“You know, my fridge broke a few years ago,” he explained. “And I couldn’t afford to fix one, my youngest was a newborn and our budget was messy.”

Steve nodded along, still unable to figure what he was talking about.

“And Y/N offered to fix it for me,” he continued. “My daughter saw her doing it and thought she looked like that fairy, Tinkerbell.”

“Oh,” he exclaimed.

Well, it did make a little bit of sense. And it was cute.

“She is a nice girl,” he affirmed, smiling a little. “You’re a lucky fellow.”

His face heated up, and he gulped as he blushed.

“It’s not like that,” he said quickly. “We are not…”

“Yeah, yeah,” the bartender smirked. “Sure. Is that all?”

“Yes, thank you,” he mumbled.

He ignored his friends’ questioning looks, just getting into his car and looking over at Natasha when she moved to his side.

“Is my ride still up or are you too distracted with your crush?” she asked teasingly.

Steve scoffed.

“I don’t have a crush,” he unlocked the door. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Nat scoffed, giggling to herself, sitting down and putting on her seatbelt as he did the same, just watching him with a little smirk.

“What?” he mumbled, impatient after hearing her laugh for the 4th time in a roll.

“Oh, nothing,” she tapped something on her phone. “Just trying to find out who that friend of yours is. She has quite the number of titles.”

He scoffed, but Natasha didn’t sound like she was done with it.

“She finished her bachelor’s degree at 15,” his friend listed, sounding impressed. “Got a Master’s degree at 17, and her first PhD at the age of 22, pretty fast… but she is a prodigy, after all, so yeah.”

Steve frowned.

First PhD?

He didn’t know you already had a PhD, he thought this was the first one.

“How old is she now?” he asked.

Steve had never thought about your age before. In his mind, you were still underage or something - or at least under 21, he wasn’t so sure.

“Oh,” Natasha gasped.

He turned to her with surprise and some fear. Was anything wrong?

“Today is her 25th birthday,” she told him, looking worried. “And she was alone.”

Steve’s shoulders dropped. Of course, he knew you were alone, but he had invited you to come over and sit with everyone, but you had refused his invitation. There was nothing he could do.

“Steve!” Natasha exclaimed, sounding like she was very disappointed.

“I invited her to our table,” he defended himself. “She didn’t want to come.”

“Of course, she didn’t want to come, Steve!” Nat rolled her eyes. “She doesn’t know any of us. What did you expect?”

He felt his face hot, knowing he was blushing.

You didn’t even want him around! When he said goodbye, you didn’t offer him a seat or ask him to stay. How would he know that?

She sighed.

“Okay, you know what?” his friend put her phone down. “You clearly like her…”

“I don’t-” he tried to defend himself.

“I’m still talking,” Natasha interrupted him.

Steve scoffed but resigned to listening. Nat taught anthropology but was pretty much a therapist for their friends - which also included some thought love and hard truths.

But she wasn't always right, and right now she was wrong.

He didn't have a crush on you. He was too old to have a crush on you. Steve was 35, a respected professor and artist, and not a teenage boy crushing on a random girl.

“You clearly like her, I don’t know why you are being all annoying about it,” she continued. “And I don’t care why you’re being so stupid about it, but you are too old to play games, and if she had any interest in you…”

“She probably doesn’t,” he added.

“If she does,” Nat repeated. “I’m sure she won’t wait around for too long if you keep snubbing her. She is far too smart for that.”

He just continued to scowl in silence, parking in front of her condo.

His friends turned to him and sighed, looking at him.

“Steve,” Nat spoke slowly. “Get your head out of your ass.”

Steve shook his head, but relaxed when she moved to kiss his cheek, waiting as she walked into the building and was out of his sight before driving away, frowning when the car struggled to start as it started raining.

What a day.

Steve relaxed when his car started again, and closed the windows, starting the AC and frowning at the weird smell, though he didn’t quite pay attention to it, jumping when he heard the sound of thunder behind him.

Yep, it was best to get home before things got worse.

And what wasn’t his surprise when his car started filling up with smoke and struggling to keep moving, blocking his vision, and he struggled to pull up, looking out of the window and seeing a man quickly running to his side, and Steve realised he had parked in front of a hotel.

“Hey, do you need help?” he covered his face with a hat, looking behind his back in worry as the building behind him blacked out completely.

“Hey, sorry about that,” he tried starting the car, with no results. “I’m having some car problems.”

He was met by a worried face, and the older man jumped when the sky lit up, followed by a loud thunder sound, this time looking and sounding much closer.

“Get inside,” the doorman told him. “It’s too dangerous to be outside, come on.”

Steve gathered his things, picked his bag up and ran out into the building.

He had seen that hotel once, it was full of suits that functioned as full flats.

“Thank you,” he mumbled when they stopped in the entrance, looking around the hall and realising the place was quite fancy.

“Not for that,” the older doorman removed his coat, offering him a dry towel. “Our power is going to come back in a minute, don’t worry.”

He nodded, patting himself dry on the face.

“I’m William Smith,” the man introduced himself, offering Steve hand a hand to shake. “But everyone calls me Bill around here.”

“I’m Steve Rogers,” he took it, shaking it back, grateful for the help.

Steve wasn’t a fan of thunderstorms.

Well, no one was.

“There we go,” Bill smiled as the room lit up again, and Steve could hear the sound of the air system coming back to life. “Doctor Stark is still teaching everyone how to work with her power generator thing, that’s probably why it took so long.”

He frowned.

Doctor Stark?

“Mister Rogers?” he heard your voice, and raised his head, raising his eyebrows in surprise when you walked into the hall, looking like you were ready to go to bed, in an MIT hoodie and probably shorts, though he couldn’t see them. “What are you doing here?”

. . .

"Miss, PhD" was posted on my Patreon back on January! To read the full story before anyone else and have early access to all of my works, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month!

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Miss PhD: OPEN

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday to Yvonne Murray, Scotland’s most successful track athlete who turned 58 today.

The seemingly wee fragile lassie from the honest toun of Musselburgh, won matching set of gold, silver and bronze medals in the Commonwealth Games and the European Championships indoors and out, this has never been equalled by any Scottish athlete.

I was talking to a friend from Musselburgh a couple of weeks ago  and Yvonne’s name came up, he told me she had a tough childhood, growing up in a working class household  and against the odds ended up being educated at Musselburgh Grammar School and became a world class athlete.

Her trophy cabinet also includes Olympic 3000 metres bronze and world indoor gold, two World Cup golds, two European Cup silvers and a bronze. Her career embraced a remarkable catalogue of Scottish, UK and Commonwealth records and titles. There is a bone of contention about her Olympic bronze, the gold medal winner  Tetyana Samolenko, running for the USSR, was exposed as a drugs cheat five years later, and despite appeals to the International Olympic Committee (IOP), was never stripped of her medal.

Although she continued to race until almost 2000, injuries eventually hastened her retirement after an extremely successful career. Yvonne Murray-Mooney (her married name) was inducted into the Scottish Sports Hall of Fame in 2007. She is now an inspirational athletics development coach with North Lanarkshire Leisure and is involved in promoting the International Children’s Games.

Yvonne recently spoke about how she suffers from anxiety and depression and cite, but for her Husband, and her daughter and family, would not be with us today. She never leaves the house without her husband and in 2019 said “It’s an ongoing process, it’s day by day, but I’m slowly but surely getting better.” We wish her well in her recovery and hope she has had a good day.

She added: “I don’t go out on my own. I find that quite traumatic. When you suffer from depression and anxiety the last thing you want to do is go round a supermarket or a shop.

"The lovely thing is that people are saying ‘how are you, we haven’t seen you for ages, how are things going?’ Yvonne’s decision to speak out has been praised by mental health charity, Lifelines Scotland.

I sincerely wish her well with her depression.

[eddiiiieeee]

currently me and my ex (lets call him Eddie cuz i dunno what else to name him) that i mentioned are friends. but ive recently started dating this great guy (lets call him Saul (he's a big rock fan and adores Slash like me so) yk) anyway, Eddie disappeared for a good week claiming he was busy studying for his IELTs and sleeping during our half term break from school, on a thursday i told him about this guy ive been talking to (Saul). and he asks how old he is and i tell him oh 17-18 and he freaks out saying thats a large age gap (literally not cuz im the same age) so he ends up dipping again once i change the convo and when we get back to school on monday he replies and hes being sort of weird and his texts seem aggressive and i told my friends and my music teacher (my music teachers like my school dad) and they all thought he was jealous because of it and i just felt so angry because i know for a fact i didnt give Eddie my everything, my feelings, myself, my soul, just for the second i even decide to move on and like someone else, he gets jealous, so i decided to wait for him to talk to me, he never did, not even in school he completely avoided me and pretended to not hear me and his excuse was hes been diagnosed with diabeties on top of his already diagnosed but not medicate for, BPD. and then my mom caught me sending my boyfriend, Saul, like semi nudes (like yk swimsuit type pics). and she found out about me and Eddie because she didnt know and so i had my friends log into my instagram account to monitor it for me cuz my mom had access to my phone and all my accounts and my laptop. she ended up ripping all my posters off my door, taking my guitars, pictures that were hung in my room and my record player. shes also before found out about my scars and smashed all my vinyls. so me and her are good now, we're mending our relationship but the only way ive been talking to Eddie is through email and ive been talking to Saul through a secret snap account because she blocked him everywhere and will open my phone sometimes to go through it. basically ive been stripped of everything, saul understood full heartedly when i told him i wont be sending anymore pictures. and it just made me breakdown, because he told me that it didnt matter to him because as long as he gets to talk to me, and hear my voice and see those small snaps i send him everyday then it doesnt matter to him. like he told me he loves me a few days ago. and yet when Eddie said it, he told me he meant it in a 'ur cool' way. like who the fuck does that! anyway todays my grandpas one year, today marks the day my grandpa died and i emotionally shut down. everytime i saw that ive broken down, it just means i freeze up and stop talking, last time i felt something that deep to cry again since my grandpa was when Eddie broke up with me. and its like what the fuck. there is a shit ton i havent mentioned here yet, but theyre very main key points to the eddie story im writing and so i wont mention them rn, but also a little reminder, the titles of the chapters are actually songs you should listen to while reading the chapter

[into-september]

⭐

GATHER ROUND FOR I SHALL TELL YOU ALL ABOUT THE PLOT-SIGNIFICANT CHRISTIAN ALLUSIONS IN "I SHALL NEVER KNOW THAT SECOND DEATH" BECAUSE THE PEOPLE WHO COMMENTED TO TELL ME THE STORY LEFT THEM SOBBING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT OBVIOUSLY NEVER WENT TO SUNDAY SCHOOL

Three things to note before going into this:

I Am Not Religious, but grew up with a neat children's Bible with a lot of historical factoids that were intriguing indeed for the girl who wanted to be an archeologist. I'm also inordinately fond of Easter.

Ladybirds are strongly associated with The Virgin Mary. I don't care what behindthename tells you, "Marinette" is in practice a dimminutive of "Marie" and I refuse to believe that the Notre Dame's presence in the OP is incidental

The story's title is from "The Heart of Thomas" which is essentially just a huge Christ allegory

In the first chapter, each meeting Marinette has with a friend showing up at her door includes some more or less blatant Christian reference.

On the third morning, the doorbell rings and Chloé Bourgeois stands on the other side.

= Christ's ressurection was discovered on the third meaning. For people Swedish, Norwegian or Italian who listen to Easter songs and also look up name etymology like I do there might also be something in it being Chloé (="blooming" or "green shot") who gets this one; the Bible talks about spices, not flowers, but this song sure is all about the latter

(that is the most horrid version I've heard but I think it's the original so)

Myléne and Alix visited with a potted rose for her balcony. She pulls it out of its shaded spot as evening lets up the heat of the day, and she gazes out over the city. 

reachy but the rose of one of the many symbols of Mary and this is of course why she discovers The Other Ladybug (Kagami btw)

Somewhere out there, there’s a superhero who might well be able to walk on water, but Marinette can’t perform miracles. For her, keeping her balance on ice is more than enough.

Christ walked on water and so does Marinette at the skating rink, even if she doesn't realise that that's what ice is

Outside her window, the Notre Dame sounds the call to Vespers. When song ends, she stretches her feet towards the ceiling and plays it again.

Nothing special except pay attention to the next chapter

If Paris had still followed the revolutionary calendar, the twenty-third of September would be New Year’s Day. 

New Year's Day = feast day of Mary

It’s been fourty-nine days since Hawkmoth was defeated. Ten days ago, Ladybug announced her retirement, leaving the city in Cat Noir’s care until she’s needed again. 

The Ascencion of Christ was thirty-nine days after the resurrection (Ladybug retired), marking this scene as happening on Pentecost (the day The Holy Spirit descended on the Apostles, initiating the Christian Church).

“Your parents were so nice. I’d never seen my father be happy about visitors. I think I still feel that way - like it’ll be a bother to Aunt Élizabeth if I bring someone home. But that was my father who was the weird one, and I hate when she’s upset for my sake.” “Is she getting easier around you?” Adrien shrugs. “I’m not sure what ‘easy’ is, for her. I think some of it might be because she’s happy that I’m there. She told me she always wanted children, but it never happened. And then suddenly I was there, and even if she’s sad about mum and upset about my father, she’s happy to have me there. ‘The Lord has done this for me’, she said.”

As We All Know, John the Baptist was the son of Mary's aging cousin Elizabeth, miraculously conceived by the blessing of Gabriel (the archangel not the deranged fashion designer) even though his parents were well into middle age. Adrien's Aunt Elizabeth quoted the Scripture verbatim

“Chrysanthemums,” Marinette feels her frown forming. “Even if they’re the only things flowering this late, it’s pretty morbid.” “I don’t know,” says Adrien, and stands on the tip of his toes to straighten the crown of flowers on Ladybug’s head, “you know, they aren’t about death. They’re used in funerals because they’re a symbol of eternal life. Maybe whoever left these flowers meant for them to mean that Ladybug will be back one day.”

Surely The Second Coming is at hand

“That was a goodnight kiss from Ladybug,” he says with a cheeky grin. It wasn’t, of course, but whatever little magic he just bestowed upon her hummed with an energy of the same frequency as the jet black jewel in her hand, with the same frequency as Cat Noir himself. That subsonic current that set her nerves tingling now radiates from her hand, paradoxically easing her mind into the peace she’s been missing for at least seven weeks.

If Ladybug is Jesus maybe and Cat Noir is John the Baptist then Tikki is The Holy Spirit trying to waken Marinette to the faith

The second chapter has a lot less of it but Cat Noir is still the lesser messianic trying his best to the appearance of the true Saviour, and Ladybug's ressurection is interrupted by the bells of the Notre Dame (maybe)

“Please, come find me,” she begs, and the air is filled with motion as the Notre Dame sounds her bells when All Saints Day topples into All Soul’s Day. 

The Significance of All Saints' Day and All Souls' Day (= Day of the Dead) should be self-explanatory, but I'll leave it there to point out the implications of all this Biblical and Catholic nonsense.

Which is: All the nonsense casts Marinette as either Mary (a saint) or Christ himself. Now, sainthood is per definition a status achieved upon death, but Christ came back to life, left this Earthly plane and has been expected to come back any day now ever since.

If Ladybug = Mary, then she's dead, the end, Marinette never remembers

If Ladybug = Jesus, then she'll be back someday and Marinette will eventually regain her memories

and if that's not the most pretentious way to leave a story open-ended then I don't know what is

(thanks for asking I've been wanting to do this for ages)