#the earlier in the shows timeline the better | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yuurei20 · 6 months

Text

(This was originally an ask received through Twitter)

"Hello! Can you please elaborate on the time loop theory in book 2 that you mentioned in the tweet where you talked about your favourite theories?"

I am wary about discussing this theory as there are many others who have put much more thought into it than I have, but I can certainly try with what I was able to find :>

(The information in this thread was combined from here, here, here, and here)

The basic theory is that everything we know is repeating in a loop in an attempt to either stop something from happening or to make something happen.

The game’s tagline of “I will show you a true happy ending” (EN: “Let us show you the real happily-ever-after”) could be insinuating that there have already been less than happy endings, and we may have already seen one: while some theorize that the events of the prologue are showing us what is going to happen in the future, others say that it is both that and something that has already happened.

The theory goes that the battle with the chimera (who may or may not be an overblotted Grim) was lost and everyone (or just the prefect) is sent back to try again, thus the opening lines of the game narrated in Crowley’s voice.

(Note: I would have translated this as “I—they—you—only have a little time left. Whatever you do, don’t let go”, but the situation is so vague that anything is possible.)

(Here is a short comic insinuating that this time loop is Crowley’s unique magic (warning: blood, death, a Yuu design))

This theory seems to be largely inspired by Mickey’s comment that he has seen the same dream three times but he also says “your voice gets clearer and clearer every time.”

Since Mickey also shows up in Books 2 and 3 but we were not able to speak with him, it is possible that this is not actually hinting at two earlier loops, just earlier events within the same timeline. This does not dismiss the time loop theory and might mean that this is Mickey’s first time interacting with the loop, but there have been far more than just two or three timelines.

(This account pretends that Book 7 does not exist yet, so that is about as specific as I can get.)

The theory gets kind of wild with references to STYX’s simulation system, supposed inconsistencies with Ace and Epel, Crowley’s potential connection to STYX, etc, but one thing that everyone seems to agree on is: Leona knows.

Leona is extremely powerful and extremely private.

He has had a number of contracts with Azul who is also a powerful mage, and according to Idia he seems like “the kind of guy who always knows he’s dreaming.”

Yana has confirmed that Idia has a part in Book 7 and, with both him and Leona halfway out of their coffins in promotional art, people are wondering if Leona will be stepping up as well.

We know that Riddle’s current personality is a 180 degree change from original plans and that this change was made pretty far into development, after everything had already been approved.

There are also rumors that Leona’s Book 2 was the original Book 6, looking at older promotional information (Book 2 was originally listed between Ignihyde and Diasomnia on the official website).

It is possible that—much like Riddle’s situation—Yana came up with a better idea than what had originally been decided, and it required shoehorning Leona’s drama into an earlier Book in order to make it work.

This would mean that Book 7 used to have significant space for Leona (there is a pattern of the previous Overblotter having a role in the next Book).

That space may have been rewritten for Idia, but it is also possible that Idia’s role was added separately and a role for Leona remains to some extent, which is why they went out of their way to say that Leona knows when he is in a dream.

Theories vary from “Leona is 100% aware of what is going on, broke free from the loop and he is the only one getting older as he tries to save the world” to “Leona knows something isn’t right but not exactly what.”

The proof that people usually point to is his comment where he is unsurprised by Grim “always” eating black stones (which he shouldn’t know anything about), but the phrasing is so vague that he could just be making the connection between the stones and a potential blot-risk.

Another scene that is often referenced in the “Leona knows” conversation is an interaction with Jamil where he accurately predicts Jamil’s attack on Kalim despite how rarely they interact before Book 6.

There are also the three white chess pieces on the chessboard in Leona’s bedroom that seem to correspond to the only three characters in the game with light cosmic magic: a white rook for Rook, a white knight for Silver and a white pawn for Kalim, whom Leona literally refers to as a pawn piece in chess during Tamashima-Mina (these three chess pieces are also displayed prominently in Leona's first Birthday groovy).

Leona also seems suspicious of Crowley, suspects what really happened in Book 5 and is able to literally sniff out magic, which we have seen no other character capable of doing.

Leona is very perceptive in general: he is suspicious of Lilia in Spectral Soiree, calls him an old man when no other character outside of Diasomnia knows his true age, is the first to figure out that Malleus is pretending to be possessed and is able to tell when someone becomes injured and is trying to hide it in both Book 6 and an event.

This is not proof that Leona knows what is happening, but it may be an argument for why it is likely that he knows more than he is willing to let on.

Some versions of the time loop theory say that the same prefect is being sent back over and over again to try and save everyone (which ties into the game’s opening), while other versions say that this is the prefect’s first time being summoned into a loop that has been going on for a long time without them, in an effort by someone (Crowley?) to change the ending of the story.

While not technically part of the game, the Twst novelization supports the first pattern while the manga series supports the second, with new prefects showing up after the previous prefect presumably fails.

Knowing Yana it is possible that the game is actually a third, entirely different pattern with the novel and manga exploring alternatives that were considered for the game but not used.

#twstask #twisted wonderland #twsttheory

356 notes · View notes

the-travelling-witch · 3 months

Text

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

summary: opening up about your insecurities is a daunting thing, but suna lets you know you’re in good hands

pairing: suna rintarou x afab! reader

warnings: smut/ comfort, minors dni; skin-related insecurities (acne, scars, bumps, etc) with comfort, unprotected sex (use condoms, don’t get a kid or a std), pet names (doll, pretty), marking, very wholesome spice if you can say that jsjsh, also very self indulgent; i wanted to name it ‘under my skin’ first, so now i have mirotic stuck in my head

happy birthday, rin!! ♡

haikyuu masterlist

Flickering colours illuminated your dimly lit living room in arrhythmic sequences, the voices of actors paired with underlying music bouncing around the apartment. Next to you, snuggled up under a cosy blanket with you, was your boyfriend, his eyes fixed on the TV but keeping you close to his side with an arm curled around your middle.

Leaning against his sturdy body, you sunk further into the hoodie you had stolen from his side of the closet earlier and you inhaled a noseful of the scent clinging to it, a familiar mixture of Suna’s body wash and cologne. Underneath you, you could feel his muscles flex and relax with every breath and every laugh and, inevitably, your mind drifted from the scenes on the screen to the man next to you.

There was no doubt about it, when it came to boyfriends, you somehow managed to snatch up the price catch all for yourself. Suna was attentive, caring and funny; he always checked in on you, brought food when he knew you hadn’t eaten, sent you photos, voice messages and even flowers when he was away for work and generally pestered you to take care of yourself.

Besides all of that, he was also, of course, ridiculously beautiful. Be it his well-built body showing through every outfit he wore, whether it was loungewear, work out clothes or a suit, or the defined features of his face, the sharp slant of his olive eyes only being the highlight, he was sure to garner attention. And he did. Quite a lot, actually. The fantaken videos of him sighted on the streets or the edits you scrolled past on your timeline definitely proved your point.

Still, Rin never made you feel unwanted, the opposite, really. You could be lazing around on the couch when Rin made it seem as if you were posing for the cover of Vogue, bending down to shower you in kisses as his hands wandered like he had no control over them. Or the way he’d sidle up behind you, leaning his weight onto you like an overgrown cat just to show you dumb videos while you go about what you were doing.

Your own mind, however, was not always as kind to you as your boyfriend.

Case and point, as you looked up at him and studied his sharp jaw and smooth skin, your thoughts started heading to a darker place, one you normally kept under tight lock and seal. Certainly, no matter how genuine his compliments were, there was no way he actually meant any of them, only trying to make you feel better about yourself. After all, what would someone like him see in someone like you?

A tap to the tip of your nose pulled you back into reality, blinking to see bright green eyes sparkling down at you. The arm around your waist adjusted its grip, allowing you to turn towards him better but holding you close again the second you had settled.

“What are you thinking about? The film’s not that deep of a thinkpiece.” The lighthearted tone and tiny smirk playing around his lips were contrasted by the inquisitive raise of a brow, letting you know he was quite serious about your answer. “And it’d better not be anything stupid.”

“Oh you know,” you vaguely gestured towards the screen as you avoided his gaze, “there’s just no way they could’ve made it out of that building before the bomb went up. That was so much longer than 30 seconds.”

There was a soft touch against your cheek where calloused fingertips tilted your head back towards him, not forcibly but determined. You were more starkly made aware of the heat radiating from his body as he leant further into you, the arm around your back giving you no chance to wind yourself out of his proximity. Under other circumstances there would absolutely be no way you’d want to in the first place. But you knew Rin was sharp enough to deduce exactly where your mind had gone if you gave him only the faintest of clues and you really didn’t want to disrupt your movie night with your insecurities.

“Very cute, doll, but you never pay attention to realism. Besides,” the ends of his hair tickled your face as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, “do you really think I didn’t notice you burning holes into the side of my head? If there’s something you want, you only need to ask.”

“That’s what you got from that, Rin?” You laughed, pushing his head from the crook of your neck with the pad of your forefinger. “Could it be that you're projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

“What else could I be thinking about when someone this pretty has been clinging to my side the entire evening?” Your boyfriend hummed the question thoughtfully before your centre of gravity shifted. A surprised gasp later, you found yourself in his lap with your knees bracketing his hips, courtesy of the muscles flexing against the small of your back where he kept you pinned to his front. “You can’t blame a guy for getting ideas when you’re this cute.”

“You’re such a horndog, Rin,” you giggled, melting into his hold as his large palms smoothed out the material of his sweats covering your thighs, the repetitive motion relaxing as you lost yourself in each other’s eyes, despite having done so a million times before.

“It’s all your fault, doll,” Suna murmured and your gaze automatically tracked the movement of his mouth as it formed the words. Inspired by you, he mirrored the action and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow and unhurried, your lips moving languidly against each other, giving you all the time in the world to bury your fingers in the hair of his nape. The swipe of his tongue asking for entry was accompanied by firm hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you so flush against him, it was like he wanted to become one entity altogether. You happily parted your lips for him so your tongues could tangle together in the same rhythm of his arms moving you to grind down on him.

When his warm hands explored the bare skin under his hoodie, however, it was like someone had sounded the alarm bells in your head. Sure, you’d been intimate with Suna plenty of times, that was nothing new, but so far, you’d avoided any positions where your back would be on display or his hands could roam too freely across it. Up until this point, you’d put up excuse after excuse and the brunet had respected your wishes but slowly you were running out of fronts to put up without addressing the real issue.

Over time, you’d gotten used to Suna seeing your face with all blemishes and impurities on display, more out of necessity than free will in the beginning. You couldn’t hide your face from him forever after all. In typical Rin fashion, he’d been so gentle and reassuring about it, thanking you for putting your trust in him and nearly making you cry in the process.

Your back, however, was an area you could cover up way easier and that was how you kept it. The thought of him seeing the redness and scars littering the expanse of the skin there, running his hands over it and feeling the bumpy texture where other people’s would be smooth, it made you shrink in on yourself. As you wrecked your brain for a new excuse and got ready to push his hands down to your hips again, he withdrew them from the hoodie himself, making the garment feel much too big on you as he took his warmth with him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now,” Suna began, his voice calm as one hand settled back against your hip and the other cradled your cheek. Your fidgeting must have conveyed your discomfort, because he started drawing tiny circles onto your cheek bone, the callouses from years of playing volleyball contrasting the softness of his touch, making you subconsciously lean into the movement. “I didn’t know how to bring it up but at this point I feel like I need to know… Is there a reason you’re so reluctant to show me your back? And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, I know you better than that.”

“Ah, so you noticed,” you meekly replied, swallowing hard around the words stuck in your throat. “What gave it away?”

“You’re not the best at lying to me, you know. It was pretty obvious you were making excuses for something else.” You felt like a cartoon character getting hit with an arrow through the stomach. “I just want to understand what’s putting you so on edge, so I can fix it. Whatever it is, you can tell me and I’ll work hard so you can trust me. But I won’t know what I did if you won’t tell me.”

“What you did?” You echoed incredibly. “Rin, you’ve done nothing wrong, more like the opposite, honestly. You’re like the guy out of anybody’s dreams, of course I trust you.”

“Then what is it? I don’t want to pressure you but I hate to see you uncomfortable,” Suna’s voice was soothing like a fireplace in winter as his finger smoothed out the furrow of your brows, silently telling you to take all the time you needed, he wouldn’t judge.

“It’s just– My back it’s so ugly,” you weakly admitted, opting to hide your face in the crook of his neck when holding eye contact became too painful. For a split second, Suna went as rigid as you had earlier before gingerly setting his hand down on the top of your back and running it lightly up and down to test your reaction. “Everyone has this perfect, smooth skin but mine is full of scarring and blemishes and I… I don’t want you to see how hideous I– it is.”

“Oh baby, that’s not true,” he soothed. “You are so stunning, I could never think you’re ugly.”

“No, you would,” you disagreed, shaking your head. “I already don’t know how you can say that with so much confidence, I don’t want to ultimately prove you wrong.”“So instead you just made the decision for me?” Ah, his signature deadpan response.

“Huh?”

“You are so convinced of your own perception you won’t even entertain the thought I could see something else entirely. I’m a lot of things but not a liar, doll. When I tell you you’re beautiful, I mean it.” To show he wasn’t taking offence at your words, he tapped the tip of your nose again when you emerged from your hiding spot to peer up at him. Bouncing you in his lap as if to jostle the negative thoughts from the forefront of your mind, mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Do you really think I’d put myself into this position just to make someone feel better? Usually, I only try to fuck unbelievably attractive people on my couch.”

“Oh my god, Rin! You’re such an idiot!” You were well aware your boyfriend had the tendency to be shamelessly blunt and it still made you smack your palms against his chest, though your shoulders did feel lighter at his very characteristic way of encouraging you. “Also we bought this couch together, so it’s mine as much as it’s yours.”

“The point still stands,” he nonchalantly answered, trailing one finger down the dip of your neck as his half-lidded eyes tracked its path before finding yours again. You knew that look well and it made your earlier arousal flare up again. “You’ll give me a chance to prove you wrong, won’t you, pretty? I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated for a moment before mustering up all your courage. Suna had never betrayed the trust you placed in him and he’d not given you any reason to doubt him this time either. “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you.” You could feel his smile against your temple when he leaned forward to place a small peck there. “Hmm now where were we? Oh, that’s right.”

Long fingers splayed over the back of your head to tilt your head up so he could reconnect your lips once more. Just like before, the kiss started off slow and built in intensity until you were gasping for breath, a thread of a saliva connecting you until it broke from the rocking of your hips. Having foregone a bra that night, your nipples rubbed against the soft lining of the sweater, perking up from the friction.

This time, when his hands snuck under your clothes, you didn’t move to stop him, instead letting the warmth of his palms spread across your back. Slowly but steadily his touch rose higher, his fingertips nearly massaging the skin with the light pressure he was exerting. At the same time, his mouth moved south as if he wanted to meet his hands in the middle, trailing a hot path of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw to just below your ear.

“The calluses of my hands, do they bother you?” A little disoriented by the low timbre of his voice and confused by the sudden question, you quickly made it known you liked them quite a lot, to which he chuckled. “See, at first, I was really insecure about it. Such rough hands handling something so precious, that didn’t seem right. But I learnt pretty quickly I was fussing about nothing, considering how you seem to love holding my hands or cumming all over my fingers.”

“That’s not a fair comparison,” you nearly whined, both at his choice of example and the way he bucked his hips up into yours. Your face felt as if it was set ablaze as his hands roamed and kneaded whatever part of skin they could find and your hips kept up a steady rhythm. “You have such nice hands, Rin.”“Something you made me aware of,” he smiled. When his lips reached the point where the collar of the hoodie wouldn't allow him to go any further, his hot breath fanned the expanse of your throat and his fingers played with the hem of his piece of clothing. “Let me do the same for you, yeah? Are you comfortable with taking this off?”

“Yeah,” you quietly affirmed, nodding your head at his request. With his help, the soft material slipped over your head and arms before being tossed somewhere next to the two of you and you fought hard to return your hands to his shoulders in lieu of covering up your bare body.

“Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing these,” Suna groaned, cupping your breasts with appreciative hands, forefingers and thumbs immediately working on rolling your pert nipples between them as the other digits fondled the surrounding area. “Look how perfect these look in my hands, like they were made to be held by me.”

A soft sigh of his name escaped you as you tilted your head back at the sensation of his warm hands contrasting with the temperature of the living room. It drew his attention back to the exposed column of your neck, focusing on the task of sucking a pulsing bruise against the spot that he knew made you weak.

However, what you didn’t expect was him reaching around you to ghost his finger up the length of your spine, sending electricity right through you. Combined, the actions effortlessly pulled a gasp from you as you arched your back against his chest, which resulted in you pressing down hard against his bulge. His groan reverberated against your chest, a beautiful and husky sound which made you crave to hear more.

“Did that feel good? I bet it did,” Suna whispered against your feverish skin, fingers splaying out in the dip oy your back to keep you steady. “I can make you feel so much better, you know that. Just say the word.”

By now, your panties were probably soaked through as your clit pulsed with need, hips rocking in search for more friction but not getting enough to satisfy that itch inside of you. With how your heart was hammering against your ribcage, you could’ve bet Rin was able to feel it too, even through the material of his shirt. Balling the material in your fists you whimpered, “Rin, I need more, please.”

He grinned against your shoulder, pressing your chest tighter against his and grabbing the fat of your thigh with his free hand. Without any strain, he flipped you over so your back hit the couch cushions and he towered over your form, your legs still spread around his waist.

Running his hands down and back up the length of your legs, squeezing your thighs and calves appreciatively, his touch made goosebumps spread all across your body, no matter how seating it was on you. When his fingers reached the waistband of your sweatpants, playing with it as he leaned into your space, his heavy gaze met yours once more.

“Can I take these off?” No matter how clear it was you wanted this too, Suna would always ask. This night too, you willingly lay yourself in his hands as you lifted your hips to help him shimmy your pants off you, tossing them in the vague direction of the hoodie without taking his eyes off of you. He especially didn’t want to miss the string of slick sticking to your panties as they followed suit.

Drinking in the sight of your nude form, he traced a reverent finger over the seam where your legs met your hips, purposefully applying only a hint of pressure, knowing the featherlight touch was driving you positively insane. Slowly circling further in, he then caressed your outer lips covered in soft pubes, collecting your arousal with an experimental stroke over your slit but intentionally missing where you wanted him most.

“Rin, don’t tease,” you whined, squirming against the couch cushions.

“Sorry, doll, but you just look so pretty like this,” he mused, bright eyes showing not a hint of remorse. “I just have to indulge a little.”

And indulge he did. When he finally grazed his thumb over your neglected clit, his touch seemed to scorch, which only served to fuel the desire inside of you and it inevitably coaxed a wanton moan from you. Incredibly adept at reading you and keen to hear more of your sweet noises, Suna easily slid his middle finger into your hole, that at this point had been clenching around nothing. With how wet you were, he was met with no resistance at all and soon complied with your pleas for more and added his ring finger to the first.

“Shit, baby, you’re clinging to my fingers,” Suna voiced his thoughts as he smoothed one hand down the length of your leg once more to grab your ankle. Keeping up the steady pumps of his hand, curling his digits right into the spot that had your leg spasming in his hold, he turned his head to kiss the joint in his hold. However, he didn’t stop there.

As if your leg was a fuse and he was the fire, Suna leisurely crept his affections higher, over your calves and past your knees, until you really felt ready to explode. Dimpling the flesh under his fingertips, he tightened the hold on your thigh so he could suck a myriad of hickeys on its expanse, unbothered by your incessant writhing.

His hot breath fanned your core as his plush lips mapped out the juncture of your leg, paying careful attention to the area littered with stretch marks and covering the cause of some of your insecurities with his own marks. Like he wanted to claim your body as his, not that of the doubts in your mind. When he was satisfied with the blotches of red forming on your skin, he finally pulled back to admire his work.

“Have I been neglecting you lately?” Suna whispered, almost drowned out by the squelches of your pussy as he scissored his fingers. Looking up at you over the length of your heated body, he replaced his thumb with his kiss-swollen lips, placing a sweet peck against your clit and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it. You should never feel like this about yourself.”

“It’s not your fault, Rin,” you breathily reassured him only to be shushed by idle fingers dancing across your lower stomach, then precisely pressing down where his other hand was crooking up into.

“What kind of boyfriend lets his baby feel anything less than gorgeous?” Snaking one arm around your arched back, his long fingers covered a large part of it and held you steady against his chest as the coils in your stomach wound tighter and your toes curled at his sides. “I wish I could show you what I see. But since I can’t, I’ll have to settle for conveying it like this.”

His thumb had taken up its former spot again, resumed drawing firm figure eights on your clit and your nipples rubbed against the front of his shirt where Suna curled over you to reach your lips with his. Under the influence of his messy kiss, you felt like you were set ablaze as your boyfriend encouraged you to let go for him.

Someone might as well have replaced your blood with molten lava as your orgasm washed over you with fiery intensity and sweat pearled on your temple. Your arms slung around his body as your hands searched for whatever they could grab to hold on, be it the muscles of his shoulder or his dishevelled dark locks. Your lungs were already burning with the need for air but if you stopped kissing him, stopped vocalising your pleasure right for him to swallow it up, you thought you might die.

Suna kept up his ministrations until you were trembling like a candle in the wind before he even considered pulling his fingers from you. With half lidded eyes you watched as he brought the digits up to his mouth, cleaning up your mess with slightly exaggerated lewdness and moaning at your taste.

As he sat back up, he kept you flush against him and returned you to the position that started this all. Only this time your heightened sensitivity made you hyper aware of his arousal underneath you.

“How are you feeling, pretty?” Nosing the crook of your neck lovingly, Suna nibbled on your salty skin where your quickened pulse thrummed underneath. His strong hands massaged your sides as you caught your breath and willed your chest to stop heaving. “Do you want to keep going?”

“You can’t do all of that and then deny me this,” you laughed breathlessly as you rolled your hips into his prominent bulge which caused him to inhale sharply. On top of everything, your boyfriend was also fucking hung, something his sweats didn’t hide in the slightest. “But I need you to take this off first.”

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, shrugging the shirt over his head unceremoniously, his biceps and triceps flexing in the process. While he busied himself with untangling himself from his pants, you ran an appreciative hand over the firm planes of his abs and up his pectorals. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do,” you mused, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “Got so lucky with you.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Suna smiled, letting his hands roam over every dip and curve of your body as he urged you to straddle him again. Wasting no time, you started rocking yourself over his length, gasping every time his head caught your clit while you covered him in your arousal. After starving himself of stimulation earlier to focus entirely on you, your boyfriend shuddered at the contact. “You already feel so good doll, how am I supposed to last like this?”

“It’s okay, I want you to feel good too, Rin,” you stated but your movement was promptly stopped by two heavy hands on your hips. There was a subtle flush decorating his complexion and your heart skipped a beat. Was he really this affected just because of you? “As tempting as that sounds, tonight is all about you. No room to argue.” There was a tender finality in his tone, one that made clear he really wouldn’t budge on the topic, so you relented and melted into his hold. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Yes, this wasn’t the first time you’d been intimate with Suna, but it still felt like it. Every time he sunk his cock into you the stretch had you tossing your head back. From the way his thick tip slowly breached the tight ring of muscle, to the pleasant friction of his veins sliding against your walls and the satisfying feeling of being stuffed full, you believed you’d never get used to it.

“You always take me so well,” Suna panted as he bottomed out, fingers flexing against the pudge of your ass as he willed himself to patience to let you adjust to his girth, no matter how heavenly your warm cunt felt enveloping him.

“Fuck Rin, I need you to move. Please, I–” Your brows were furrowed and you supported yourself on his chest as you started circling your hips against his while his cock pressed against all your sensitive spots so nicely.

And who was he to deny you when you asked so sweetly?

Starting with slow and deliberate thrusts, you both knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. While Suna normally prided himself on patience, even his was running thin by now and soon after, the rhythmic slapping of your thighs on his echoed around your apartment as he effortlessly moved you up and down on him, each thrust seemingly deeper as the previous one.

Not able to keep yourself upright for much longer, you slumped against his equally sweat-slicked chest and surrendered yourself completely to his actions, opting instead to claw at his back every time a particularly well aimed stroke had you clench your eyes shut. It was the best kind of torture and if you were exposed to it for too long you might actually go mad.

With your head nestled in the crook of his neck it gave Suna the perfect view down your back, admiring the way it bowed so graciously against his broad body or how your ass bounced with each slap of his thighs. How you were able to see anything but your beauty was something he just couldn't get behind; not because he was without insecurities but because no part of you could ever be a flaw in his eyes. Not when it made you who you were.

His fingers fluttered over the curve of your spine again, eliciting a more visceral reaction as your body shuddered and you pressed yourself tighter against him, trying to evade his searing touch while simultaneously craving more of it. Your whole body felt like you were boiling from the inside out, every part his scorching hands touched sizzling with nerves.

The constant grind of his pelvis against your clit had your walls gripping his length like a vice, making it increasingly harder for your boyfriend to pull out, let alone hold his own release back for much longer. Dipping his head down with a groan, his lips connected with your shoulder as his fingers kneaded and fondled wherever he could reach. Perhaps by the time you woke up tomorrow you wouldn’t see the blemishes you agonised over but the imprint of his fingers on your waist or the love bites littering your shoulder.

“If you don’t like these marks, I guess it’s on me to cover them with my own,” he mumbled lowly, perhaps more to himself than to you. Either way, the deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear followed by the sound of him reattaching his lips where he had left off shot down your spine like a lightning bolt. “You’re close, aren’t you? C’mon, you can do it. Show me how beautiful you are when you cream on my cock.”

The effect Suna’s voice and words had over you should maybe concern you. But you didn’t care as you came for the second time this night with a cry of his name on your lips, weightless as your boyfriend rode out your orgasm while chasing his own. Just as you came down from the aftershock of pleasure, Suna pushed inside of you as far as he could and painted your insides white.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything, content to stay lost in the feeling of the other as two sets of hands explored the shared silhouette of your bodies. Kisses were exchanged or randomly placed wherever you could reach, Suna caressed your sides and you swept sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

“So,” Rin broke the comfortable silence, “are you still hellbent on arguing with me on this?”

Picking up his hint of playfulness, you decided to lean into it. “Hmm I dunno, the jury’s still out.”

“I thought you might say something like this,” he chuckled, pinching your side between his eyes, resulting in you yelping in surprise and sending him a half-hearted glare which was only returned in mischief. “Good thing I already planned to bend you over the back of the couch and paint your back. Bet you’d look lovely, even if you can’t get any more gorgeous than you already are. Same place and time tomorrow work for you?”

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” You laughed at his shrugged ‘Might have mentioned it before’ before leaning up for a brief peck. “But sure, I’ll clear my schedule for you.”

After your movie night had effectively been rebranded into a shared bath Suna had drawn for you, you let the warm water rinse away most of the soreness you felt in the moment. Despite the tub being a rather snug fit with your professional athlete occupying a big chunk of it by himself, you let yourself relax against his chest.

Rin had taken it upon himself to gently scrub your body down for you, being extra careful with any of the spots he might have been a little rougher on. When it was time to dry off, he took his time to shower your back in kisses; every mark he left, every scar, every blemish, he covered them all equally in his affection and adoration.

“I love you,” he murmured when his eyes met yours through the mirror and he tangled your fingers together. “I would never dream to change a single thing about you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, like it was a secret only meant for his ears. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“It’s nothing you have to thank me for.” Suna brought your hand up to his lips to leave a lingering kiss there too. “I’m just doing what any good boyfriend should.”

Later in bed:

“How much did you have to hold back from saying ‘I’ve got your back’?”

“You have no idea.”

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

➺ send in an ask to be added to or removed from my tag list

#┊holly’s potions ೃ༄#haikyuu #x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna x reader #suna smut #suna rintarou #haikyuu suna #minors dni

269 notes · View notes

theidiotwhowritesthings · 6 months

Note

I have covid (for the first time ever wtf) and I’m feeling sick and pathetic. Just thinkin’ bout how I have to take care of myself and I hate it. How do you think sugar daddy Joel would take care of our sugar baby reader without spending any money if she got Covid or the flu??

I need some fluff to get me thru. PS I love u and your writing so flipping much.

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: mentions of illness, reader can eat chicken noodle soup, reader has hair that can be brushed away from her face

Timeline: this does not fit into the current TCOY story line and is just a separate drabble in the same universe!

[a/n: first of all, OH NO. I know how bad COVID sucks. (fun fact I've had it on five separate occasions, I basically collect a new round of it every time a new strain runs through our hospital). Please please please make sure you stay hydrated above all else! Obviously I don't know your medical history, but the best general advice is to not get dehydrated. Your body needs fluids to fight the good battle. second, I love YOU and I know this isn't much and it's not that great b/c I threw it together in fifteen minutes but I hope it makes you feel a little better, my love💜]

TCOY DRABBLE:

HOMEMADE IS BETTER THAN STORE BOUGHT

"happiness is homemade."

“Baby girl, I need you to sit up for me.” Joel hummed.

You were buried in the thick comforter of his bed feeling absolutely miserable. The cold had come on suddenly. A small cough, more irritating than anything else, spiraled into full body aches, a splitting migraine, and congestion so bad that it felt like your head was filled with concrete. Joel’s heavy hand brushed aside the hair matted to your forehead with dried sweat. Your fever was lingering last Joel checked, but the Nyquil he forced you to take with a bottle of water earlier was helping some.

Joel murmured your name once more and you just moaned in response. You felt the bed dip with his weight and his hand dragged up and down your back. The motion brought with it a comfort on par with medication itself.

“You think you can eat somethin', sugar?” Joel asked.

“Maybe later.” You mumbled. “Sleepy.”

“That’s probably the Nyquil.” Joel replied. “I sent Riley to pick up some stuff from the store.”

You felt Joel lean over and his lips brushed against your temple. You shook your head, “You’re gonna get sick. I should quarantine alone.” You buried yourself deeper into his bed. With your nose stuffed like it was, you couldn’t smell his sheets and that bothered you more than it probably should’ve. “Don’t you have that meeting today too?”

“If you think I’m leavin' you like this, sugar, then that fever’s got you delusional.” Joel snorted. You felt the covers you had bundled yourself in begin to untangle and a whine that could only be described as pathetic slipped your lips. Before you knew it though, Joel was under the thick comforter with you and you felt yourself get pulled into his warm chest. “C’mon, baby girl. Sleep it off.”

You snuggled closer into his grip and focused on the random patterns he was rubbing on your shoulder with his hand. As a human, this was obviously not the first time you had gotten sick, but something about this time felt different. With Joel’s thick arms wrapped around you it dawned on you that it was him. The last time you were sick you were forced to take care of yourself and work through it. Having your sugar daddy around made you needy as all hell it seemed, but the comfort Joel immediately showed you had you melting against his chest.

“When I wake up, can I have soup?” You blurted the words out, half asleep.

Before sleep took you completely, you heard Joel’s deep chuckle, felt it rumble against you, “Sugar, you can have anythin' you want.”

When you woke up, you did feel marginally better. Joel was no longer in bed with you and you slowly sat up to rub at your face. You craved a hot shower to wash off the sweat and open your sinuses a bit more. A groan left your lips, still feeling crummy, and you began to climb out of bed.

“Whoa, whoa, pump the brakes.” Joel called out. He came into the room holding a tray and you chuckled at the sight of him. He set the tray down on the nightstand to usher you back into bed. “Where do you think you’re goin'?”

You gave him a tired smile, “Shower. I feel icky.”

“Icky?” Joel asked and you nodded. He chuckled and leaned forward to press his lips on your forehead again. He sat back and rubbed a hand against your leg. “Think you can stomach somethin' first?” You nodded again and Joel grabbed the tray. It looked like a bowl of chicken noodle soup, but not the kind that came out of a can of Campbell’s. “Here we go.”

You tilted your head, “Where’d you buy the soup?”

“Didn’t.” Joel grinned. “Made it.”

“You made it??”

“Uh huh.” It was honestly adorable how proud he looked of it. “Homemade is better than store bought, right? Gets you better quicker.”

You laughed, “I’m not so sure about the science behind that.”

“No, no. When I googled the recipe it definitely said this would get you better faster.” Joel teased.

You picked up the spoon and carefully blew the heat away before bringing it to your lips. The first thing you tasted was salt. A lot of salt. Too much salt. You coughed in response and tried not to twist your face to reveal the reaction. You cleared your throat and smiled, “Yum.”

Joel furrowed his brow, “What’s wrong? No good?”

“No. It’s⏤ It’s good.” You said quickly. “It’s… I like the, uh, the…”

Joel grabbed the spoon from your fingers to take a sip himself and he immediately spluttered with a cough and groan, “What the fuck is that?” Your lips twitched up into another smile. “That tastes awful. Jesus Christ. Gimme that.”

He took the tray from you and set it on the nightstand again away from you. You set a hand on the side of your face while watching his face crumple into a grumpy look of annoyance. You shook your head, “What did it taste like as you were making it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. While you were making it did it taste okay?” You clarified. Joel narrowed his eyes at you in thought and you tilted your head. “…Did you taste it while making it?”

“You’re supposed to eat it while you make it??”

You laughed, “Not eat. Just taste.”

“Shit.” Joel scoffed. “I ate some of the chicken and it was good.” You reached out and cupped his face. He looked annoyed with himself, but at your touch the grumpy demeanor morphed into a soft look of concern and disappointment. Joel sighed and turned his head to press a kiss to your palm before leaning into your touch again. “I’m so sorry, sugar. Just wanted to do somethin' nice for you myself rather than just buy…”

You shook your head, “This was nice. I loved it.”

“There is no way you loved that soup. It was just salt, damn it.”

“No, but I love that you tried.” You replied. “It’s the effort that counts.”

“That’s just what people say when they fuck up.” He grumbled.

You leaned forward and kissed the tip of his nose, “You said the homemade version would make me feel better, and this has definitely made me feel better, daddy.”

Joel wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and stared softly for a moment before his smile returned. “You missed my lips, sugar.”

“I already told you. I’m icky.”

“Don’t care. Still want you.”

“You are already pushing your luck.” You scoffed in amusement. “You are gonna end up sick.”

Joel pulled you closer, and even at full strength you’d never be capable of refusing this man. He paused with his lips just barely touching yours. “I’ll risk it.” Joel’s lips sealed against yours tenderly. A soft kiss of comfort rather than of passion. A wordless act of reassurance that he was there. Joel’s tongue just barely brushed against yours before he leaned back and left you wanting more. He hummed, “You taste like salt.”

“Yeah, gee, I wonder whose fault that is.”

#joel miller #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #sugar daddy!joel miller x reader #sugar daddy!joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #take care of you

337 notes · View notes

asmutwriter · 2 months

Text

The Gangsta's Wife (Part 6)

DESCRIPTION: You complete your first business ordeal as a Shelby family member. Your husband, Thomas, wants to thank you for your effort.

A/N: Was this section of smut overly necessary or was I just horny when I wrote this part? I guess we'll never know

WORD COUNT: 2510

From Beginning / Previous / Next / Master List

WARNINGS: swearing, blackmail, mild sexism, threat, talk of murder, drinking, sex whilst drunk (able to consent), smut, rough sex, no foreplay, mild breeding kink, pet names (love/sir), creampie, overstimluation, mild dacryphilia

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

This story does not follow the timeline of the show

Not been proof read - part may change slightly once I've proof read it

The clock chimes 8pm. You take in a breath. You and Tommy had parted ways since you discussion earlier this afternoon. Going about your business during the day. Due to him unable to find a different plan you were going with your choice. So here you were. Standing outside the garrison. You take a deep breath. Going inside you see a man sitting at a table. Looking smug as he drinks a pint.

You go over, putting on a false smile as you sit opposite him. His eyes meet yours before going over your body. His tongue darts out slightly as he smiles. You place your hands on the table, one hand over the other as you keep eye contact with him as hes finished checking you out. "Harry Thompson correct?" he nods "I have some business Id like to discuss with you" he chuckles slightly

"And you are?" he says in an almost mocking tone

"Sorry, where are my manners?" you hold your hand out for him to shake "Mrs Florence Shelby" he laughs again. Taking your hand and shaking it. You place yours back ontop of the one still resting on the table.

"So which one are you married to?"

"Does that matter?"

"I want to know which one sent you to do their dirty work"

"They didnt send me. They dont even know Im here" he nods, leaning back in his chair.

"WHat is it youd like to discuss then?"

"Id like to discuss your children. You have 5 I believe" he laughs

"I have 3. But carry on" a smirk on his face as you keep his eye contact

"Youre right. You and your wife have three children. Alfie, Anna, and William. But if you include the two children you had with your mistress then you have five"

"I dont know what you're talking about"

"So you dont know who Robert and Michael are? Or Rose, your mistress who had your children?" his smile drops. Eyes on yours as you continue talking "they live in London correct?" he goes to stand up

"My business isnt with you its with them" he stands

"SIt down Mr Thompson"

"I dont have to speak to one of their whores. Because that is exactly what you are"

"I said sit down Mr Thompson. Or I start screaming" he looks at you as you keep eye contact with him "how do you think thatll go for you? Given the current location we are in" he keeps looking at you, staying standing. You lean marginely closer to him, hushing your voice slightly so only he can hear you. "You may think you have this city wrapped around your finger but if any of the men in this building think you laid a hand on Thomas SHelby's wife then you better start digging your own grave" he takes in a deep breath. Sitting back down again.

"What is it you want?" he asks, a slight anger in his voice.

"I want you and your men to leave. The same conditionings my husband wants in fact" he grits his teeth

"And if I refuse?"

"One of my men goes and has a little visit to your family. The one up in London. The one we both know you care the most about. And slaughters them. One by one" his eyes dart around the room. You can sense the amount of fear going through his body. "If you leave then both of your families will remain safe. I wont tell my husband about Rose and your sons". You put your hand out for him to shake "do we have a deal?". He looks at you. Your calm behaviour being very different to the anxiety you feel welling up in your body. He reaches a hand out. Taking yours and shaking on the deal.

"Good decision. I'll give you until midnight tonight to leave this place. If you arent out by then... well, you know what'll happen" you smile at him. Standing up "Have a good night Mr Thompson" you leave the pub. Getting back home you open the front door. Taking your coat off and hanging it up. You can hear your husbands voice in the building next door. Given your previous experience of evesdropping you decide that it wouldnt be the best idea. Instead you retire early to bed. taking out a book you start reading.

You place the book down on your bedside table. Unsure of how late it is. But feeling dreadfully thirsty. You try settling down to sleep. Dehydration catching up to you. You mumble slightly as you get out of bed. Heading downstairs. Grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen to head back upstairs. You notice the living room light on.

Poking your head around the corner you see your husband. Whisley in hand as he watches the liquid swirl in the glass. "Mr Shelby?". His eyes look at you. The blue standing out among the darknessof the room. You step inside slightly. Seeing his jacket and waistcoat discarded on the sofa. "It appears to have gone well with Mr Thompson". He nods. Sipping his drink. Placing it onto the counter top he stands up.

"Go back to bed Flo. I'll be up shortly". His voice quiet. You nod. Turning back around. Going up the stairs. Reaching the top step you hear the living room door shut. Looking down the stairs to see darkness. You look downwards. Letting out a soft sigh as you head to your bedroom. Shutting the door and getting under the warm covers.

You wake up the next morning. Letting out a soft groan as you sit up. Hearing happy voices downstairs. Unsual given the normal tone of voice your new family has. AWare of the cold spot next to you. Not unsuaul. He sometimes stayed downstairs or in his own room next door.

You get out of bed. Wrapping your dressing gown round your body as you hear multiple voices. Heading into the living room you see your husband and his brothers. The three of them drinking and smoking. You fold your arms over your torso. Aware that you are still in your night clothes.

Arthur is the first to spot you. Coming over to you. The smell of alcohol on his breath. "Tommy told us what you did. That you helped Harry to fuck off" you chuckle slightly

"I suppose you could put it like that" you smile as he hugs you. Your arms going to your sides. Hanging awkwardly. Moving away he holds up his drink

"To Mrs SHelby"

"Ayy Mrs Shelby" you hear John call out. Your smile growing slightly as they drink their drinks in unison.

"Alright you two. Go on. We've still got stuff we need to be doing over in the shop. I'll be over in a bit". They both down their drinks. Heading past you. Them both smiling widely at you as you hear the front door go. Tommy titls his head as he looks at you. Then heading to his bottle of whiskey he grabs out a second glass. Topping up his one before puring you one. Walking over to you he hands you the fresh glass.

"I take it the plan worked?"

"Harry Thompson left late last night. He was seen getting into a car and driving off with his belongings". He clinks his glass to yours "Well done to your first official business ordeal. You're offically a Shelby" Taking a sip his drink as a soft smile appears on your face. His eyes watching yours as you do the same with the glass. Him standing about a foot away from you. You get the scent of whiskey and smoke from him.

"Thats excellent new Mr Shelvy. I'm glad the plan worked"

"As am I"

"What time did you find out he'd gone?"

"Early this morning. John and Arthur came round to tell me. We decided to celebrate the victory and have been celebrating since" you chuckle slightly. His mind only seeming to have noticed your nigthdress. He glances downwards. Trailing his eyes over the fabric before bringing them back up to meet yours.

He downs the rest of his drink. Placing his glass on the small coffee table. Standing straight again he closes the gap between you. His hand coming up to cup your face. Moving his thumb over your lips. Your cheeks going a soft shade of crimson at the affection. Your eyes still fixed on his. "Drink. Got to celebrate this victory, ey?". You smile, turning your head to the side slightly as you down your drink. He takes the opportunity to start kissing yur neck.

You let out a satisified sigh. Feeling his hand take the now empty galss from you. Hearing the soft clink as he places it onto the coffee table. His hands going to your hips as he holds you close to him. Feeling him start to grow in his trousers. The thin fabric of your night dress leaving very little to the imagination for the both of you. He unties the loose knot in the front of your gown. Pulling it off your shoulders and discarding it onot the floor. One hand snaking your waist. The other coming up and gripping at your breasts. His lips attacking your neck as he begins to massage your boob.

Your hands come up. Gently going to the side of his head. Reminvg it from your neck. Making him look at you "Mr Shelby... we cant here... my sisters..."

"You are my wife. And this is my house. Where else do ypu propose I can fuck you, ey?"

"But what if they see us...?" you whisper "Or even hear us for that matter?"

"I'll be quick" his hands moves from your chest where it was happy resting. Resting it over your mouth as he lowers his voice "All you have to do is not make a sound..." a soft whimper escapes your lips. Causing him to grin. His hands both drop to your hips. Forcibly turning you around. Pushing you to armchair in the room. Your hands going to the back of it as a means to not fall over. Your knees hit the plush seat. He rakes up your dress. Holding it up with one hand as he unbuttons his trousers. You hear him spit, seconds later feeling him rubbing his palm over your core. You whine out. Knees going up onto the chair as you push your hips back into his touch.

A few seconds later and he plunges himself into you. The lack of foreplay making the strecth almost unbearable. Causing you to cry out. The hand holding your night dress up moves. Snaking around your waist as he pulls you flush against him. Holding you up as the other hand covers your mouth. He turns your head to look at him. His dull nails digging into the flesh of your cheeks as you feel tears coming to your eyes. He comfortingly sushes you. Giving you a little bit of time to adjust before he starts to move his hips into yours. The pain going through your body quickly turning to pleasure as you cunt quickly adjusts to him. Your hands come up to his arm wrapped around you. Gripping at him.

Holding onto him for dear life as he continuesly plunges his cock in and out of your needy hole. You shut your eyes. Feeling the tears from your eyes fall down your cheeks. But you dont care. Your so focused on him filling you out that you dont care about the tears staining your cheeks. The dull pain between your thighs. The truly vulnerable and submissive state hes put you in. You only care about him. About how good he feels inside of you. And about how close hes managed to get you to your high.

"SUch a good girl for me. Letting me fuck this pretty cunt of yours. Fill you up with my seed. You deserve it, love. Being such a good wife. You deserve to be filled with my cum".

You subconsciously tighten around his words. Although you cant see it, you can feel the grin adorning his face. The hand from your mouth moves. Causing you to open your eyes. Being met with his dark, borderline sadistic gaze. A soft whine leaves your lips as you try and remain quiet. His thrusts slowing slightly.

Your hands come up. Moving from his arms to hold at his face as a feeble 'please' escapes your lips. A few more tears fall down your cheeks. His thumb quickly wiping them away, resting it gently onto your shoulder as he watches your eyes. Fresh tears quickly appearing as you can feel your high slowly drifiting away from you. His thrusts slow but continueus.

"Please sir...". he brushes the hair from your face. Tucking it behind your ear before placing his hand back over your mouth. Your arm goes around his neck as he continues to hold you flush against his body. Your other hand going to his wrist.

He starts thrusting at a godly speed. You practcily scream. Digging your nails into the flesh f his wrist. He kisses your shoulder. Grunting as he pushes himself deep inside of you. Feeling his cum hit your walls. You feel your hips start to spasm. Your own orgasm hitting you. Helping to milk him dry as he mutters a soft 'fuck' against you. His blunt nails digging into the softness of your cheeks as you tighten around him. You shut your eyes. A few more tears trailing down your face as you come down from your high.

His hand going from your mouth to gently brush the liquid away. You reac your hands out. STeadying yourself on the chair again as he pulls out of you. Watching his seed fall from your folds. He collects the jucies onto his tip. Pushing them back into your hole. You whine out in discomfort. Overstimulation and the dull ache being to much for you. But he thrusts a few more times before pulling out fully. Bringing your nightdress down to cover your intimate part before he puts himself back int his trousers.

Your breathing becomes steady again. Resting down into the chair. Feeling his hand brush your hair out of your face. You open your eyes. A tired smile on your face as you meet his blue eyes. "I have some work to do" you nod. Turning so you can stand up. Him steadying you as you wobble slightly. A slight smirk on his face. Knowing that hes the reason for your unsteadyiness. But your to cock drunk to care at this moment in time.

"I'll see you later then Mr Shelby" he smiles. Nodding as he lets your arm go. Going to the front door as yu hear it bang behind him. Quickly followed by the sound of his voice next door. You give yourself a few more minutes before getting up off the chair. Going upstairs to get dressed.

Previous / Next

TAGS

@whorecrux-of-slytherin @kkrenae @ireallydontcareanymorebrooo

101 notes · View notes

oshiawaseni · 1 year

Text

While the second opening was disingenuous to the heart of Izuku's solo arc, the actual content of the anime itself has remained quite faithful. Even going so far as to add or change some details to better represent the characters and their feelings. It's almost as if these changes were an amendment to the manga, just in case the manga didn't answer certain questions well enough.

Like the true reason Izuku decided to leave U.A. The manga presents Izuku's loved ones as a group, with Katsuki there as the last person your eyes should look at. But will readers make that connection? With the removal of just one word in the anime, the group part of the sentence, it shows viewers a more solid, concrete reason: It was explicitly because of Katsuki nearly dying.

Another example is how the various translations of Katsuki's line ("waatteru") created fandom friction, and they would flitter between "I know" and "We know," depending on who was translating it.

I always thought it had a very personal "I know" vibe to it because as Katsuki stated, and this is something reminded to us only 3 chapters earlier: He is the person who "knows" Izuku best. The anime removes ambiguity of the I know/We know debate by having Izuku apologise only once he'd made it into Katsuki's arms, making their exchange of words appear even more intimate and direct to one another. Katsuki knows.

Then after he stumbles his way into Katsuki's arms, there is that bonus clip of him being awake to hear Katsuki's gentle forgiveness of him. To express that the last of his resolve has crumbled because of Katsuki’s apology and being held in those arms he feels safe. He feels loved. So Izuku gives himself fully to Katsuki's care, murmuring out his beloved’s name with a "Ka…” right before finally succumbing to sleep. I think this extra moment makes the feel of their apology seem even more romantic… because it's supposed to.

And now Ochaco's handhold! It being featured in the opening gave some of us grief every week simply because this arc was never about IzuOcha, it was about Katsuki and Izuku.

Katsuki realising his need for Izuku to be by his side and losing SLEEP over not knowing if he's okay. Katsuki's proud statement of knowing Izuku best and that he couldn't be left alone because of his disregard for himself. Katsuki instigating the search and rescue of Izuku. Katsuki humbling himself before Endeavor and Nezu, setting aside his pride in exchange for the safety of his most important person and best friend, PLEADING Endeavor for his help because he's SO AFRAID of Izuku being out of his sight and losing him forever.

Katsuki saving Izuku's life again. Katsuki humbling himself a second time, apologising to Izuku and telling him to put some trust into him and their hero friends; that they can be relied on to help him. Katsuki telling him his ideals of saving people weren't wrong, and they can only win by saving everyone: Izuku, the people at U.A and the people in the city.

The beautiful poetry in Izuku’s reason for leaving, to protect his most precious person, being overtaken by his reason to stay: Izuku’s unconditional, everlasting love for that person and his overwhelming need to be by their side. And here Katsuki was, finally telling him it was okay to; he wants him there.

Even Daiki-kun said the last of Izuku's resolve left him because of Kacchan’s heartfelt apology… Yes. The opening’s handhold was really out of place.

And after Izuku is brought back to U.A, we get to the real IzuOcha handhold... But rather than grabbing his hand like she does in the manga, they have her grab the more impersonal wrist area instead. It's so hard to believe we are in a timeline where Bones are making an opening Ocha-centric, when it shouldn't be, and yet NERFING her handhold in the ACTUAL anime content…??????

All of this has got me thinking that maybe Hori himself has been directing Bones to make these changes - to make BkDk's growing love for each other a more prominent fixture in the story that’s almost impossible to miss, while dampening the IzuOcha teasing into little more than kindness between two good friends. And in doing so, the anime has now become spiritually connected to the manga because this is the exact same direction the manga has been going in lately.

Why else were all of these changes and enhancements made in the anime? Maybe it’s because Horikoshi is preparing people for the bkdk romance that's about to go into full bloom.

#bakudeku #It's so close #It's just around the corner #I think in Hori's mind the manga will have #bkdk canon #before season 7 begins airing #bnha meta #bnha anime #op #HONEST FEELINGS: WHAT IS EVEN HAPPENING I DONT KNOW ANYMORE #but i'm freaking here for it LETS GO #sorry if there’s mistakes I’m editing it half asleep #goodnight ❤️

494 notes · View notes

000marie198 · 2 months

Text

Beats till the song disappears

......

Classic era, Sonic 2's bad ending timeline but I made it better. Or worse. Leaving for you to decide. Enjoy :)

...........

He trudged through the dark zone, silent and windless akin to a closed, lifeless chamber.

The place was littered with systematically arranged crystal blocks that would've looked aesthetically pleasing if it were daytime. For now, they just made the place more eerie as he waited for Robotnik to show up.

After what felt like an eternity of worried pacing to the speedy hedgehog but in reality was barely a couple of minutes, two of the structures nearby split apart, revealing a camouflaged panel sliding in the ground.

Sonic stopped, facing the opening to see the Eggmobile rise from the underground, hovering a meter or so above the inclined floor leading into the depth.

The doctor looked composed, unworried, his spectacles glinting with a previously absent touch of confidence, of victory.

"Did you bring them?" He asked, addressing the frustrated hedgehog.

Sonic revealed four emeralds without a word, pulling them away as the other tried to grab for them.

"Tails?"

"Hand them over first."

Sonic was about to retaliate but paused at seeing the other hover a finger over the mobile's control panel, staring straight at him with the unspoken threat clear in his body language. He could kill the kit if Sonic wasn't careful.

His thoughts conflicting with one another and the concern for his little brother chiming in, he finally relented, holding out the gems for the mobile's claws to grab.

"Now tell me where he is."

"Careful, hedgehog, you don't get to make demands here. I believe we had an agreement that he'll be spared only if you brought all five Chaos Emeralds, hmm?"

Silence fell over the terrain, the hero shooting a venomous glare at Robotnik. It would be too much of a gamble to attack him when he had a link open to wherever he was keeping Tails. His lack of acknowledgement to the earlier question was answer enough. He hadn't been able to collect the required number of emeralds on time.

"I see," the scientist murmured.

Sonic gritted his teeth, high strung, on edge. He was aware he had failed but he needed to know...

"Just tell me if my brother is alright."

"He is," the other sighed in an exaggerated display of disappointment, "I would've gotten rid of him by now provided your ineptitude-"

"You know I can't locate them all this fast!" Sonic snarled, looking seconds away from jumping at his throat.

"But I am feeling rather... merciful today," the man continued on without even reacting to the interruption, his demeanor betraying he held all the cards. "I propose another deal, hedgehog. If you agree, I promise that no harm will come to Tails."

Sonic shouldn't trust him. Didn't trust him. But if it meant Tails would be safe...

He nodded, signalling to Robotnik that he was listening. Said scientist smirked under his mustache.

"Become part of my legion. Surrender yourself to me, and your little friend will go unharmed."

His legion. The hero had fought against him enough times, had seen enough horrors and rescued enough critters being used as test subjects to read between the lines, to know what Robotnik meant. The mere mention of that thing still makes him sick. Robotnik wasn't asking him to just give up his freedom. He was demanding for Sonic to give up his mind and body, his free will, in the worst way possible.

Sonic's life or Tails' safety?

It took him less than a second to choose.

"Well?" Robotnik's voice prompted, already knowing his nemesis' decision.

"If you hurt Tails-"

"Oh don't be so leery. I gave you my word. Your fox friend will not be harmed. Now, do we have a deal or do I signal my bots to neutralize that menace?"

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with a plethora of emotions he couldn't bring himself to grasp and process as they came and went in waves. He gasped in a breath and stilled, before coiled tension leaked away from his body and he sighed. Surrendered.

"Deal."

"Excellent!" He could hear the victorious grin in Robotnik's voice but he didn't react, unable to bring himself to look up, gaze fixed on his red and white sneakers as he willingly sealed his fate. His iconic shoes held his focus, shoes that allowed him his freedom to run as fast as his heart desired. The same freedom which he was now volunterily giving up for his brother.

It felt like just yesterday when he had met the little guy, his shoes very smilar to Sonic's own, a matching color scheme. Something he had never paid attention to before but was now a glaring memory. He hadn't even told Tails how much he cared for him, how much proud he was, had he?

If he were to be given a chance to speak with Tails, he'd never remain silent again.

His feet moved without his consent, following the rotound man into the underground base until he blinked out of his thoughts and found himelf in a lab, facing a tall glass cylinder strung up in the center of the circular space.

It stood empty, it's front open, waiting to be occupied. Sonic stared on, unable to look away.

"Now don't be shy, step into the capsule. Chop chop!"

A hair's breath pause and he stepped forward, inside the glass confinement and upon the platform inside, fully resigning himself to what he had agreed on. His breath shuddered with anguish and dread as Robotnik moved around it to the front and pressed a switch.

The glass sealed behind him with a decisive click.

Adrenaline shot through his veins as the machine hummed to life, lights glowing awake below the platform he stood on and the welded hatch above him.

His heartbeat began to thunder in his ears, quills pricking up but he held still, letting the titanium clamps reaching for him seal around his ankles and wrists.

He saw Robotnik clicking away at a nearby screen and then he felt a subtle jerk, the machine's hum increasing in volume and intensity, the platform under him rising up.

With one final click at the keyboard, sleek contraptions that looked suspiciously like a sci-fi mixture of scanner and blaster surrounded him and pulsing rays shot out from their openings.

Sonic grunted as he felt the energy strike him, the clamps keeping him still.

It started from below, at the legs. Of course it fucking did. Sonic wanted to scream, wanted to yell and kick and bang his fists against the glass, feeling cold numbness slowly spreading up his most powerful weapons, his legs, his speed, stripped from him painstakingly slowly as flesh turned to metal.

All he did was clench his fists and grit his teeth in anguish, his whole being screaming at him to move but he held still. He couldn't move, not if it placed his first friend, his best friend, at risk.

28%

The titanium bands securing his ankles and wrists seemed to tighten, restricting the little bit of movement he had as the rays slowly climbed up to his torso, inches below his heart.

He didn't let the tears show.

For Tails for Tails for Tails for Tails

His thoughts chanted like a mantra, placing all his being into not moving, letting himself be turned into a machine, until his ears swivelled at the swoosh of a panelled door sliding open, urging him to look up.

His breath caught in his throat, each cell freezing up in a mixture of shock, rage and despair.

No. No no no no no no no no NO!

"TAILS!" The anguished wail left his chest just as his heart stopped beating, an engine's hum replacing its frantic rhythm.

He payed it no mind. It didn't matter when it was ripped to shreds anyway the moment his blurry gaze met his brother's.

Glowing red optics stared back.

He tried to move, tried to break free but it made no difference, half his body frozen on the spot, under the control of the Chaos forsaken monster who did this.

65%

The bands on his wrists burned, something warm and damp flowed down his palms and dripped from his fingers. Sonic was numb to it, struggling and shaking in the glass confine, his own screams becoming muffled to his ears.

"You promised! YOU FUCKING PROMISED YOU WOULDN'T HURT HIM!"

A screen beeped, the vitals' charts on it going haywire as the progress bar reached 78%.

The mustached scientist just stood there grinning, unconcerned and victorious.

"And I kept my promise. He is unharmed, well and alive." The words seemed to echo in his head, reverberating as if imprinting on the walls of his mind, the machine's buzz and hum drowned out by them. "Just as you asked, rodent."

He couldn't take his pained eyes off of the small yellow robot and his captor noticed that, turning to address Tails with a deceptively encouraging smile.

"Isn't that right, Metal Tails?"

The little robot finally moved, startled beeps escaping it as it's mechanical gaze shifted away from hyperfocusing on Sonic and towards what it's systems told it to be it's creator.

The familiar innocence in that small gesture, even though seeing it on a roboticized mecha, broke something in Sonic.

He tried to call out to his brother but realized he couldn't speak. He couldn't feel his muzzle or mouth anymore. Oh...

The screen read 96%.

As the metal climbed up his quills and ears and the world began to fade into static, Sonic drowned out Eggman's smug grin and droning of the roboticizer's rays, putting all that was left of his mind and strenght into focusing on Tails.

He wanted his last memory to be of his brother, even if no longer flesh and blood but mere metal and wires, he was still Tails. His Tails. That much was clear from its demeanor alone, the innocence, the curiosity, the intelligence, it was all there. Sonic would be able to tell his kid apart from a thousand other Tailses if he had to.

The tears he'd been holding back finally slipped down, the last piece of his humanity used into conveying to Tails that he was sorry, that he loved him.

99%

His eyes closed, the metal covered up the last of the organic cells and Sonic finally went still.

............

Metal Tails gazed upon the powering down capsule, his processors showing the progress bar having reached 100%.

He couldn't take his focus off of the inactive hedgehog; organic, mechanical, irrelevant, Metal Tails was drawn to him even before the roboticization was completed.

Something suspiciously illogical was recorded in his archives during the process. He had sensed what organics refer to as emotions being conveyed to him earlier by the same being. It seemed to be a combination of concern, remorse and affection.

How could he do that without any working signal and communication link to Metal Tails?

The roboticized hedgehog suddenly beeped awake, internal fans whirring as his systems rapid-fire processed the new programming and commands. He jerked within the bonds and stilled again, hanging limp for a long beat.

Metal Sonic lifted his head up, optical processors switching on to reveal glowing red optics staring straight into Metal Tails' own.

It appeared the other robot was finally awake.

Metal Tails couldn't calculate why the organic hedgehog had seemed to know about him but he had felt drawn to the blue being just the same.

Perhaps it was a satisfactory calculation on his creator's part as Metal Tails' tended to get lonely and this arrangement made him most pleased.

Another robot companion made for the perfect promised gift.

.................

No characters were killed in the making of this story, just as I promised :]

#i am sleepy #author is sleep deprived #anyways Happy Sunday everyone #this is my counterattack #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sth #miles tails prower #dr eggman #dr robotnik #sonic and tails #unbreakable bond #angst war weekend #plz if there r any errors ignore them I'll recheck them in the morning #cw body modification #i rather like this au. i might just add nore to it :D

74 notes · View notes

blueepink07 · 7 months

Text

Passage of time in Milgram is very weird and hard to understand. Although for some characters there are some visibile changes like hair growth and, despite that in timeline conversation they celebrate their birthdays, their age is the same. One might say that it is just a choice made my creators, simply because in TV shows or games characters usually maintain their age. However, at the beginning of the trial 2 they updated the profile, so wouldn't it make sense to also change it, considering that Es is sleeping for a few months and how long the trials themselves last...? An aspect that seems to be more than once pointed out, which indicates that the time is not passing much different than ours.

"Yuno: Good morning, Guard-san. My name is Kashiki Yuno… Did you remember that properly?"

"Fuuta: …Kajiyama Fuuta. It’s been a while, Guard. What were you doing until now..?"

"Muu: I’m Kusunoki Muu. Guard-san, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?"

"Shidou: I’m Kirisaki Shidou. It’s been a while, Es-kun. While you were gone, a lot of things happened."

"Mahiru: …Shiina Mahiru. It’s been a long time, Es-kun… I wanted to see you…"

"Kazui: Good morning. (Laughs) Guard-kun is a sleepyhead, aren’t you? I’m Mukuhara Kazui. Do you remember now?"

"Mikoto: Ah, Guard-kun. It’s been a while. Ow, ow ow… My head hurts…"

Jackalope also points out that the MVs are posted at the same time when Es extracts them.

Merch is also a good indicator that states that their age is the same.

Amane and Es didn't grow up further, them being the ones for we should see more visibile changes, the only thing different is the lenght of the hair for some characters.

But hair is something that grows really fast, so considering that Milgram began like three years ago, since the beginning of the first trial and now, their hair should be more longer! I doubt that many of them considered cutting it or cared enough about it especially the guilty prisoners...

Because the characters don't seem to suffer much physical changes, a question arose in my mind. If that's the case, than doesn't it mean that their bodies are also healing very, very slow?

It is over a year since the beginning of the second trial and Shidou admits that he has to constantly take care of Mahiru.

Which seems quite odd, doesn't it? Considering her injuries, if not fully recovered, Mahiru should at least feel better, something that doesn't seem to be the case...

Neck sprain -> time to recover (4-6 weeks usually, a severe one 3 months)

Rib fractures -> 12 weeks without fixation, six months or one year after surgery

Fractured arm -> 12 weeks with still some discomfort

Compression fractures -> 8 weeks or more if surgery is needed

Lacerations -> dependes a lot of how bad the wound is, but most of them heal earlier than 3 months

Mahiru should have been much better, but she isn't, despite that most injuries require 3-4 months for her to have a better condition...

Fuuta, who Shidou doesn't mention a lot, despite also suffering from injuries, I don't think is doing any better. Although, in his case, most of the injuries require surgery, something that Shidou can't currently do.

Orbital fracture and retinal detachment -> requires surgery in most cases

Chest injuries depending on how severe they are can heal in 6 weeks. However, considering that Fuuta is in a lot of pain, with how difficulty he is sometimes speaking, makes me believe that he needs surgery even here.

What makes me worried is how, despite receiving care from Shidou, especially Mahiru, there aren't a lot of changes in their condition during the trial. It's like their bodies can't heal, they are stuck in time. Which will surely be a big problem for the next trial, if someone else gets injuried... It also makes me wonder if Mahiru and Fuuta will truly be better at the beginning of the next trial...

#milgram #thoughts #mahiru shiina #milgram mahiru #milgram fuuta #fuuta kajiyama #milgram shidou #shidou kirisaki #milgram theory

174 notes · View notes

feyhunter78 · 9 months

Text

Pink Pastels Pt 29

Description: Conchata O'Hara is not a fan of you and makes this clear to Miguel, but it ends up going a little too far when she drags Gabi into it. Pt 30

“Mijo, I don’t like this.” Connie says as soon as Miguel shuts the door.

They’re in a side sitting room, the music, and chatter muffled by the thick door. His mother is wringing her hands as she stands in the middle of the room looking up at him.

He turns to face her, massaging his temples. “You don’t like what?”

“Someone new trying to come in and take Ava’s spot, it’s too fast.” She says, a concerned expression on her face.

“It’s been four years.” He deadpans, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to calm himself down.

He’s never been good at this, even in his original universe, in fact he was worse back there because his mother was worse. Conchata O'Hara spent most of her life after her divorce from his stepfather guilt-tripping, he and Gabriel into running to her side at any given moment. She’d fake health scares, emergencies, claim someone had tried to break in and harm her, anything to trick them into visiting her at Wellvale Home.

But here? Here Gabriel dies much earlier, here his stepfather dies under mysterious circumstances when Miguel was thirteen, here his mother stays kind for a bit longer, this universe’s Miguel is in high school when she begins to change.

Then when Miguel arrived in this universe, he pulled her out of Wellvale and put her into therapy, then a nice apartment where she could bug everyone else before she bugged him. The guilt-tripping lessened, and he found he could actually tolerate visiting her.

“But Ava is still her mother.” Connie says that same disappointed look on her face he saw in the video footage from the day Ava left this timeline’s Miguel.

He counts to ten, then back down to zero in his head. Gabriel was always much better at this than him. He had more patience, in both universes.

“She is biologically her mother, but she isn’t her mom , she made that very clear to me.” Miguel says firmly.

Connie shakes her head. “She’s seduced you, hasn’t she?”

“Y/N?” He asks, both two seconds from laughing while also slightly aroused at the idea.

Would you seduce him? Maybe he’d bring that up to you, a little roleplay? You could be the beautiful assistant that seduces her overworked boss, turns him to putty in her hands…

“Miguel.” Connie snaps.

“No, no, she has not seduced me, she’s an elementary school teacher, Mamá.” Miguel explains.

“So?”

“So? So, she’s Gabi’s teacher, and she loves her job, she would never do anything to jeopardize it.”

“Most mistresses are teachers.” She says, crossing her arms over her chest.

He knows that’s blatantly wrong.

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn’t you?” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them, and the look on his mother’s face is like a sucker punch to the gut. “I—Mamá—I didn’t mean…I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“Tu hijo ingrate.” She says, shaking her head in disappointment. “I did everything for you, tried so hard to raise you well, but obviously I failed.” Trsl: You ungrateful child.

“Mamá…” He reaches for her, but she takes a step back.

“I am so sorry that I was such a terrible mother that you would give up so easily, really Miguel, you would abandon the mother of your child when she came all the way here to see you and Gabi, to apologize.”

“How did you know Ava was in Nueva York?” He asks, dread filling his chest.

“She’s my daughter-in-law, and she wanted to see her baby, I told her where you and Gabi moved to.” She says it so simply, as if she hadn’t driven a stake through his heart.

Not for the first time, he feels a wave of sympathy and rage for this universe’s Miguel. “You told her where we are? After I specifically asked you not to?”

“She wanted to apologize.” She emphasizes.

“No, no she did not, Mamá. She showed up and demanded to see Gabi, she tried to seduce me, and she called my fiancée a whore in her own home, in front of Gabi. She was never intending to apologize.”

“Well, obviously your perception of her is skewed because of your new plaything.” She huffs.

“She is my fiancée, I love her, I’m in love with her, and Ava will never be allowed into my home or near my daughter again.” He says with a tone of finality as he stares down his mother.

She rolls her eyes.

“Mamá, I’m sorry, but if you can’t accept that, then you won’t be allowed to see Gabi either.” This’ll break Gabi’s heart, but a boundary has to be put into place.

This would be much easier if he could just tell his mother Ava was dead, but he can’t and he won’t.

“You would keep me from my own granddaughter? This woman really has changed you.” She tsks, tapping her fingers impatiently on her arm.

She has no idea.

“It’s for the better, can’t you just be happy for me?” He asks, both frustrated and saddened that his mother can’t look past her own desires long enough to focus on him.

She sighs and takes his hand in hers. “Miguel…of course I can. If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

He smiles slowly. “Thank you, it means a lot to me that we have your support.”

She pats his cheek. “I’m your mother, you’ll always have my support.”

He smiles and takes a step back, turning towards the door and pulling it open. You’re bound to be worried; he’s told you a little about how much his mother loved Ava, how she blamed him for the divorce, and how she treated him and Gabriel, but he didn’t go into too heavy detail. You had been so upset on his behalf, an almost righteous fury blazing through you.

“Sin embargo, no soy la madre de esa puta.” She mumbles. Trsl: I’m not that whore’s mother, though.

Her voice is so soft, and if his hearing wasn’t enhanced, he doubts he would’ve heard what she said.

“You clearly need time to process this news, Y/N, Gabi and I will leave you alone, and you can give me a call in a few days once you’ve calmed down.”

He leaves her behind as he heads back to the table, his eyes focused on you. How you try to cover your smile with your hand when you laugh, and the way you blend so seamlessly with Monica, Brett, and Nancy, his other family.

“Papá!” Gabi calls out to him from her seat beside you.

“Are you bored of the sheep already?” He teases, as he slides into the seat beside you, an empty one on his other side.

“Oh, Miguel, maybe don’t—” You try to warn him, but it’s too late.

Gabi nods excitedly. “I want one.”

“A sheep?”

“I’ll name it Wooly, and it can sleep in my bed with me, and we can go on adventures, and maybe we can buy a farm, and then I can have lots of sheep.” She begins to ramble on and on about sheep, and he sees Monica hiding her face in Brett’s shoulder.

“Did you do this?” He asks, glaring at her from across the small square table.

Monica raises her head, her lips pressed tightly together to keep a laugh from escaping. “No?”

“Brett?” He turns his gaze on the light brown-haired man.

“You know, Miguel, they say animals are really great for children’s social development.” Brett says, giving him an apologetic smile.

“And then a goat tried to eat my dress!” The tail end of Gabi’s ramble catches his attention.

He turns back to see Gabi holding out the hem of her dress for you to see. It’s got ragged bite marks in it, and pieces of fabric missing.

“Oh no, that’s no good.” You say, smoothing out Gabi’s skirt. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to get you a new one for the next gala.”

“I’ll take you shopping, nieta.” Connie says, taking the seat next to Nancy, the conveniently empty one next to him.

Miguel shoots her a look, but she ignores him.

“Really?” Gabi asks, beaming at her grandmother.

“I’d like to come with, if you don’t mind?” You ask, giving Connie a smile.

Miguel braces himself for his mother’s response.

“How sweet, but this is a family thing, we need to find her color for her quince.” His mother’s voice is saccharine sweet, and it turns his stomach.

“But she’s six?” You question, looking to him for guidance.

“It’s never too early to find your color.” His mother says.

“Of course, but children’s favorite colors often change as they grow older, shouldn’t we let Gabi make her color decision when she gets closer to fifteen?” Miguel sees you look towards Gabi, but she’s preoccupied with trying to beat Brett in some odd competition to see who can eat their pasta faster.

“Y/N is right, Mamá, Gabi is too young to decide what color she wants, why don’t we revisit this idea when she’s a bit older?” Miguel steps in, placing a hand on your knee to comfort you.

“You’re a man, Miguel, you don’t understand how important this is.” Connie dismisses him.

“I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but he’s her father, I’m sure he does.” You say, your smile growing tight.

He adores you, you who is trying so hard to befriend his mother for the sake of his daughter.

Connie smiles at you. “Poor dear, don’t worry, no one expects you to understand.”

You blink at her, stunned. “Oh—um, I mean, I grew up visiting Texas, I’ve attended quinceañeras before, I know how important they are to the family.”

“Yes, but, attending is not the same as hosting.” Connie laughs, the sound thin and mocking.

“Connie…” Nancy says quietly, her eyes scanning the table until they land on Brett and Gabi.

“Of course not, but Gabi is important to me, so anything that’s important to her is important to me.” You try to reason, clenching and unclenching your fingers around the stem of your still full drink.

Brett reads her glance and scoops her up, carrying her back towards the petting zoo, claiming he forgot to show her something super cool and important.

“And that’s wonderful to hear, but you don’t need to worry, really no one expects you to understand how important this is, you’re not her blood, her family, after all.” Connie smiles as she says this, and Nancy hides her face in her napkin.

Rages surges through him, but you beat him to it.

“I’m sorry?” Your grip on your drink would be enough to crack it if you had his enhanced strength.

“Connie, please.” Nancy says miserably. “Don’t do this.”

“Yeah, Connie, don’t say things you can’t take back.” You seethe.

Miguel’s feels trapped, stuck between two immovable forces, you, coming in hot with a rage he’s never seen before and his mother, radiating ice-cold contempt.

“You can call me Mrs. O’Hara, only family and friends call me Connie.”

“Mamá, y/n is Gabi’s mother, she—”

“I can handle everything a mother does.” You finish his sentence, fingers tap, tap, tapping angrily on the tablecloth.

Connie shakes her head. “It’s best to leave all the important things to me, or Ava, when Miguel finally gives up this little charade. You’re not her mother, and you never will be.”

Like a woman possessed, you shoot up, drink in hand, and throw it at her, champagne splattering across her and the tablecloth before you slam the glass against the table. It shatters, glass scattering across the pristine white tablecloth. “Don’t you ever fucking say that to me again.”

Miguel moves a millisecond before you do, wrapping his arms around you when you lunge. “Y/N!”

“Don’t you ever fucking say that to me. You miserable excuse for a mother, how dare you? You think that cheating bitch is better than me? When has she done anything but lie on her back and fuck with your son and granddaughter’s head?” You scream, fighting against Miguel’s grip as he pulls you away from the table.

“Y/N, please, calm down.” He begs, his enhanced senses helping him navigate around the other tables.

Monica rushes forward and takes what remains of the broken glass from you, before scrambling back to the table.

“Gabriella is my daughter, and I will give her the best damn quinceañera this city’s ever seen, and you will have to fucking watch from outside.” You continue, until Miguel slaps a hand over your mouth and drags you outside.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars, @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3

#meg's writing #miguel’s pastels #we love crazy y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

308 notes · View notes

bonesbuckleup · 25 days

Note

Hi, random q. I saw in your tags that you swear by Scrivener for original fic. I’m still plugging away in ye olde Word and now I’m intrigued to know what about Scrivener you like so much. I’ve def heard about it but never used it, so I’m curious :)

YES I would love to tell you about my lord and savior software Scrivener. I hope you don't mind I published this long, long answer publicly.

So. The main issue I have with Word and Google Docs is that you hit a certain length/word count, and it starts to lag and load kind of jerkily. You know? Also, navigating chapter to chapter or scene to scene is awkward for me--you either have to have a whole bunch of individual documents and multiple windows open, or you have to use headers and the table of contents...which is fine for quickly finding chapters but less so for scenes within those chapters.

Messy, basically. Does not spark joy for me.

Enter Scrivener.

Now, before I evangelize a bit, I will say that Windows Scrivener and Mac Scrivener are not 100% created equal. They are both better, I think, than Word or Google docs, but the Mac version is a bit slicker and a little nicer to look at. I only say that for if you're using Windows, because if so my screencaps below won't exactly match what you see if/when you download the program.

ONWARD.

So, the #1 thing that Scrivener has over Word is that it's a one time fee, not a subscription. So while it is a little pricey (Just went and looked, $59.99 USD), it's only the one payment. All updates and such are covered and available as free downloads. I will also say that Scrivener gives you a 30 day free trial. That's not 30 consecutive days, but 30 days of use--if you only use it every other day, you'll have the trial for 60 days. They make it really easy to figure out if it's for you or not.

This is also going to feel like a lot, but there are built in tutorials and it's actually pretty intuitive, depending on how your brain works. Anyway! The basic gist of Scrivener is that it's a digital binder. You can keep all your book stuff in one place:

As you can see, there's the manuscript (aka my book), notes, research, more. Tbh, I mostly just use notes and Manuscript, but if it floats your boat, you can store maps, place names, worldbuilding, playlist links, moodboards, a whole ton of stuff, all in one menu that's easy to access and in a single window. You can organize it however itches your brain the best way.

But like I said, for me, the best is that Manuscript part, which I'm going to go into now. I use a three act structure for books (but break the big ol' middle act into two pieces because it makes my brain happy), so each act gets a folder.

When I click and expand that act, each chapter has it's own folder. However, it also shows quick-reference index cards, so I can have an at-a-glance at what's going down in each chapter. (I'm using a outline system called Save the Cat for this book, which is why all my chapters have titles like 'Catalyst', feel free to ignore those...I also have a very compact timeline, so to help me stay organized, I labeled each chapter with when it happens.)

You can do the same with each individual chapter and the scenes, where when you click on the chapter folder, each scene gets a card. If you don't type in a summary, it'll just auto-populate the start of whatever content you were writing. You can see this in the 'Copper's Candids NEW' card.

And, of course, it is writing software. When you click on the individual scene, it opens the blank document, and you can get cracking.

So. This system is nice for a few reasons. My favorite is that it makes navigating, reorganizing, and/or rewriting scenes extremely easy. It's just point and click, drag and drop. You can also open two docs in the same window at once, like this:

Which is a nice feature for several reasons--you can work on a new version of a scene with the old one pulled up next to it, or if there's something you wrote earlier or that comes later that's important to what you're working on now, you can have them both up for quick referencing.

Another slick thing is each doc has a notes section off to the right side of the screen--which is optional! I use it for future revision notes/descriptions of how I want the scene to go:

My other favorite part of Scrivener is that it makes it very easy to hoard your deleted scenes like a deranged dragon in case you want them later. My garbage looks like this:

There are SO MANY FILES hanging out in my trash, and you know what? I so rarely actually need them, but my god am I glad they're there on the rare occasion that I do. Word, again, can make it more difficult. I always had a massive 'cut' document that was longer than the actual project and again, awful to navigate. This just makes it easier.

Scrivener also makes it easy to compile the manuscript into other doc types--pdf, doc, docx, etc--for easy printing and sharing.

ANYWAY. I'm sure there are approximately 1 million other things I'm missing, but basically Scrivener takes all your book/long project bits, puts them in one centralized file, and makes it super easy to navigate. I've also found that outlining is easier, because I can just make the folders and scenes and drag them around while I noodle through the plot.

10/10, would recommend to any long-form writer. If you have any other questions, please let me know! If anyone has read this far and has a thing about Scrivener to add, please do! I love Scrivener, and a lot of my writing buddies love Scrivener, and it really kinda has revolutionized the way I write original fiction. I'm always happy to yell about how great it is.

#mail #story-monger #long post #Scrivener #free yourselves from the shackles of Word and Google Docs my long-form-writing friends #there is a Better Way #writing

58 notes · View notes

dragonagitator · 2 months

Text

House MD fans: You wake up in the PPTH ER in summer 2004. What you doing?

Scenario parameters:

All your memories of the show and the past 20 years are intact.

You are stuck there/then and cannot return to our universe/year.

You have nothing but the hospital gown on your back.

Questions:

So, what do you do?

How much would you tell House?

How would you get him to believe you?

Who else would you tell?

How much would you tell them?

Inspiration:

The author self-insert isekai fanfic "Intervention" by VivatRex (aka @acrownforaking). They've been writing it for the past 11+ years and are still updating. It's already nearly 300k words long despite only being up to the events of S02E15. I AM IN AWE.

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this scenario ever since I read that fanfic a month ago. I'd love to discuss it with other House MD fans and hear what you would do.

(Apologies to the mutuals for the abrupt blog topic change. A new brainrot has taken hold.)

My short answer:

My long answers are below the cut.

So, what do you do?

My primary objective would be to enlist House in averting the pandemic.

My reasoning: If anyone can nip it in the bud before it gets out of Wuhan, I figure that a world-renowned genius doctor who is an infectious diseases specialist, speaks Mandarin, and now has a 15-year head start would have the best chance.

Difficulty level: Babysitting a narcissistic manchild with the self-preservation instincts of a toddler until the year 2020 so that he makes it there then alive, out of prison, and with his sanity, medical license, and professional reputation intact. To quote Quantum Leap, "Ohhhhhh boooooooy."

Strategy: I'm in the "I could fix him, but whatever's wrong with him is way funnier" camp, so I wouldn't try to change him (that always backfires anyway). Instead, I'd try to change his circumstances:

A stable romantic relationship would help, so I'd seduce him if I can (I'm not his type but a gal's gotta shoot her shot), try to get him together with Dominika earlier if I can't, and tell him how horribly his relationship with Cuddy ended so he knows better than to even start it.

Avert the shooting. Moriaty was a patient so his info is in the PPTH files. I AM THE ONE WHO KNOCKS. Or for a less murdery approach, try to get him arrested in April 2006 for violating New Jersey's strict gun laws.

Warn House about Tritter so he can switch patients with another clinic doctor.

Warn House to never get on a bus with Amber.

Tell Kutner I'm from the future and he's the only one who can prevent something horrible from happening (he's a Trekkie so he'll want to believe), then unfurl my big timeline poster and point at the "Kutner suicide early 2009" stickynote and ask him "so what's up with that, dude?"

Tell Wilson everything I can remember about his cancer -- he's an oncologist and thus can work backwards from there to figure out when to start checking for it so he can cut the tumor out while it's still just a tiny baby.

I would take a harm reduction approach to House's drug use, e.g., suggest that he try microdosing psilocybin and extend his liver's lifespan by substituting cannabis for some of his Vicodin and alcohol consumption.

Methods: Even though he doesn't have one for most of the show, House mentions a few times that he's entitled to hire an assistant, and I happen to be excellent at administrative work.

I think he'd be willing to hire me because working as his executive assistant / department secretary would position me to recognize patients as they come in so that I can discreetly pass along anything I remember, e.g., the kindergarten teacher has pork worms in her brain, ask the scientist in Antarctica to show you her feet, etc.

Meanwhile, I could lurk around the hospital preventing miscellaneous shit, e.g., get the gift shop volunteer from S01E04 to go home sick, ensure that the gunman from S05E09 is promptly admitted, diagnosed, and treated before he snaps and takes hostages, etc.

Possible sidequests:

Use my foreknowlege to get rich by milking online poker bonuses until the passage of the UIGEA in 2006, use my poker money to start flipping houses until 2007, get in on the "Big Short" in 2008, and set a Google Alert for "Bitcoin" so I can start mining/buying it from day one. Unfortunately, I haven't paid enough attention to individual stocks to play the market other than knowing that Amazon would be a good long-term buy & hold.

Use my riches to change the outcome of the 2016 election and try to steer the development of the internet and society in general in a slightly less stupid direction.

Send Pete Carroll a letter postdated just before the 2013 Superbowl telling him the outcome, then suggest for the final play of the 2014 Superbowl that the Seahawks try handing the ball off to Marshawn Lynch instead of throwing it because that throw will be intercepted. PRIORITIES.

How much would you tell House? How would you get him to believe you?

Your story about being from the future of an alternate universe in which House and everyone he knows are characters on a fictional TV show is already too batshit crazy to believe even without his kneejerk "everybody lies" skepticism. How would you differentiate yourself from all the patients who pull crazy stunts to try to get him to take their case?

My answer: For the "from the future" part, I'm hoping there's some sort of test that House could run to confirm that I was indeed vaccinated with a mRNA vaccine against the COVID-19/SARS-COV-2 virus. Given that neither of those things existed in 2004, that would be physical evidence that I'm not from around here now.

If producing physical evidence isn't possible, then I know that Vegetative State Guy from S03E15 is already a patient at PPTH because he'd been there for 10 years, so I'd find him and tell House about his son. I could also tell House enough about the cases from the first few episodes that I'm pretty sure he'd believe me by Christmas. I want in on Chinese food with Wilson.

I would wait until House accepted the "from the future" part before broaching the "fictional TV show" issue. Until then, "I watched a TV show about your life and cases" is a 100% true statement and it's not my fault if he assumes that show was a documentary. :)

Once he believed me, I'd tell him everything.

Who else would you tell? How much would you tell them?

There are people out there who would literally kill for your knowledge of the future, so going public or being too open about it seems highly risky.

My answer: I'd tell House, Wilson, and Chase right away. Kutner but not before Jan 2009. Maybe eventually Cuddy and the rest of the Diagnostics team if keeping my foreknowledge of the future from them proves too difficult.

House is the only one who gets to know everything. Everyone else is on a "need to know" basis.

I might also bring Bill Arnello (the brother/lawyer of the mob informant in S01E15 "Mob Rules") into the circle of trust because he could be a very useful resource for some of my sidequests, e.g., changing the outcome of the 2016 election far far far in advance and in the most direct way possible. (Hi, Secret Service! This is a purely hypothetical discussion about time travel and not at all indicative of any real criminal intent, pls do not pay me a visit, kthxbai.)

I think the only people I would tell the "fictional TV show" part to would be House, Wilson, and Chase, because there are things I need to warn them about that definitely wouldn't have been in a documentary. Like Chase needs to know that killing Diballa is 100% the right thing to do but he seriously needs to work on his OpSec. Everyone else gets the implied documentary lie of omission.

If I get caught knowing too much by random patients, I'll just claim to be psychic. Way more people believe in that than would believe in time travel.

What would you do?

104 notes · View notes

tigertales9 · 1 year

Text

Naughty and Nice

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: Christmas tree decorating with a little fluff, a little angst, and a little smut. This fic takes place between week 12 (Titans) and week 13 (Chiefs).

Here's a timeline to refer to if you get confused. I was confused most of the time while writing this.

Thanksgiving - Thurs. Nov. 24th, 2022

Bengals at Titans - Sun. Nov. 27th, 2022

Tree decorating (this fic) - Wed. Nov. 30th, 2022

Chiefs at Bengals - Sun. Dec. 4th, 2022

--------------------

You glance around the living room making sure everything is ready for tonight. "Something's missing," you muse to yourself, surveying the vast array of Christmas ornaments laid out on your coffee table.

You and Joe were decorating your Christmas tree tonight, and you wanted everything to be ready when he got home. Earlier that day, you'd wrestled the gigantic Christmas tree box out of your storage room and set up the first two tiers, leaving the top tier for Joe to set up since his tall ass could easily do it without a step stool. The tree was pre-lit so at least you didn't have to worry about that.

"What's missing?" you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip for a bit before it hits you. "Garland!" you chirp, rushing back into the storage closet to dig around. You emerge a few minutes later with several sparkly strands wrapped around your neck. As you walk back into the living room, you hear Joe coming in from the garage. You feel a surge of happiness as he rounds the corner and hits you with that panty-dropping smile.

"Ohhh festive," he purrs, leaning down to give you a kiss while fondling the garland. "Do I get to unwrap you?" he teases, sliding his agile fingers up and down the garland in a suggestive way that makes your toes curl. "Not yet," you giggle. "Pizza will be here in 15 minutes." Joe's stomach growls loudly just as you finish your sentence and you both laugh. "Right on time," he chuckles, dropping another kiss on your lips before walking into the living room to survey the tree.

"Looking good," he says, grabbing the top tier and easily clicking it into place. He plugs the tree in and stands back to admire the lights. "You want to put the garland on before the pizza gets here?" he asks.

"Sure." You unwind a glittery strand from around your neck and hand it to him. "You can do the top since I can't reach. I'll help once you get farther down." You watch as Joe carefully twirls the garland around the top of the tree, your eyes instinctively drawn to his ample ass showcased by slinky gray track pants.

"How's this look?" he asks, tucking the end of the strand in.

"Sooo good," you moan, flashing him an innocent smile when he shoots you a look over his shoulder.

"You were checking out my ass weren't you?"

"Maybe," you shrug, tossing him another strand of garland.

He gives you a dirty grin. "You better be glad pizza is on the way or you'd be in big trouble."

"How big?" you tease, lowering your gaze to his crotch.

His eyebrows shoot up as he slowly walks toward you. "You know exactly how big, baby girl, but I'd be happy to show you."

He's a step away from you when the doorbell rings. "Bad timing," he grumbles, playfully smacking your butt before jogging to the front door. He returns a minute later with his nose buried in the pizza box. "I smell pineapple," he groans, pushing a few ornaments to the side before plopping the pizza box down on the coffee table; he throws the box open and grabs a slice, his eyes sliding closed as he takes a huge bite.

"I guess we're eating in the living room tonight," you chuckle, walking into the kitchen to grab napkins and a couple of drinks. Joe is finishing his first slice when you walk back in. You set his napkin and drink down beside him, smiling as he picks half the pineapple off a slice of pizza before handing it to you.

"Thanks, babe," you grin, taking a bite and watching in fascination as he piles the extra pineapple on his next slice and crams it in his mouth. You're about to make a SpongeBob joke when Joe's phone chirps. He quickly wipes his hands on his napkin and checks his phone, frowning for a second before typing out a quick text. You take another bite of pizza before turning on some cheesy Christmas music. Joe laughs as you wiggle your hips to the beat. "C'mon," you say, nodding at the tree. "Let's do this."

Y'all finish wrapping the garland around the tree then move on to the ornaments, stopping every now and then to take bites of pizza. Everything goes great for a little while before Joe's phone starts chirping every few minutes. He mumbles apologies while shooting off texts. "Sorry, babe," he says, after the latest interruption. "Chiefs week got some of the guys trippin'."

"It's fine," you say, smiling as one of your fav Christmas songs comes on. "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas," you sing, kicking your smile up a notch as you hit your stride. "Everywhere you goooo…" Joe returns your smile then immediately frowns as his phone rings. "Just a sec," he mumbles, hurrying to grab his phone. "It's Coach," he sighs, walking a few steps away before answering the call.

You hum along to the Christmas carol under your breath as you hang a few more ornaments, shooting a couple of quick glances at Joe as he runs a hand through his hair and nods his head several times. "Yeah, that's fine," he says, giving you a quick grimace before continuing his phone conversation. "Let me call you back in 5 minutes." He ends the call and graces you with a sheepish look. "Coach wants to send me a couple of film clips real quick to get my opinion. Is that okay? It'll only be like 15 or 20 minutes then we can finish the tree."

You chew on your lip for a bit before answering. "That's fine," you mumble, giving him a smile as fake as the tree you're decorating. "Thanks, babe," he says, planting a quick kiss on your cheek before jogging upstairs to his office.

You feel every bit of happiness leave your body as you look at the half-ass decorated tree. "It's beginning to look a lot like fuck this," you sing under your breath, turning off the Christmas music before unplugging the tree, plunging the room into darkness. Just like my mood, you think to yourself. You know you're being dramatic but fuck it. Shit like this always happens and you just have to swallow it down and be supportive.

It didn't help that Thanksgiving was a bit of a clusterfuck less than a week ago. Y'all had hosted a small get together with just family and a few close friends, but Joe's mind had clearly been elsewhere for the duration of the festivities. Between watching football games and texting his teammates, Joe had pretty much had his face in his phone until his mom finally snapped at him, causing things to be a little awkward after that. Joe's dad had reminded everyone that Joe had a huge game coming up in a few days against the Titans, so he was rightfully distracted by game prep, but Robin wasn't having it. "He can put the phone down for 30 minutes!" she'd snapped, narrowing her eyes at Jimmy when he opened his mouth to protest.

"And that was that," you whisper to yourself, "would anyone like a slice of pumpkin pie with a side of awkward silence?"

You walk to the kitchen and grab a glass, sighing loudly as you toss in some ice cubes followed by a hearty amount of vodka and a tiny glug of cranberry juice. You take a sip and make a face as the potent drink hits your taste buds. You take another sip and lean into your pity party.

You can't even call anyone to complain because they'll all say the exact same thing -- that's what you get when you're engaged to an NFL quarterback. Or even worse -- don't complain, girl, at least he makes bank. You'll never have to worry about money.

You shake your head at that last thought; you were in love with the man not the money. When y'all first got together back at LSU, you had no idea this would be his career trajectory. You wonder sometimes what it would be like if he never won the Natty, the Heisman, and became the first pick in the NFL draft. What would a normal life be like?

You take a deep breath and try to quell that line of thinking. "It is what it is," you mutter, grabbing your cocktail and heading upstairs.

You walk into the master bathroom and turn on the dimmest light available before running a bath, squirting some bubble bath into the heated water and watching as a thick layer of foam develops; you strip naked, twist your hair up to keep it dry then step into the hot water, sighing in satisfaction as you breathe in the fragrant steam rising up around you.

About 20 minutes later -- after the hot bath and vodka have started working their magic -- you feel a little ashamed of your negative thoughts.

"He's just watching game film," you mutter to yourself. "He's not out bar hopping or chasing women or ignoring everything to play video games." You shake your head as you continue to berate yourself. "He's living his dream right now and it won't last forever."

You feel a pang of anxiety as you think about how close he came to having to give up his NFL dream before it really got started. The knee injury halfway through his rookie year could have easily ended his career; lesser injuries have been the end for several players, but not your man. You feel a rush of pride when you think about how hard he worked -- scarily hard with single-minded focus -- to regain his strength.

"And here I am being a little brat about decorating the damn tree." You sink farther down in the tub, giggling as the bubbles tickle your chin; you're still smiling when you hear a knock at the door.

"Babe? Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

The door opens and Joe walks in, smiling when he sees you chin-deep in bubbles. "Hey gorgeous," he says, crouching down beside the tub. "Sorry it took a little longer than I thought. Coach is trippin' about the Chiefs game. He just wanted to make sure we're on the same page about a couple things."

"I don't know why he's trippin'," you purr, giving Joe a sly wink. "He's got the best quarterback in the league."

"Thanks," he mumbles, trying and failing to keep his grin just shy of cocky. "What's this?" he asks, picking up your high-octane beverage. "It's a cranberry cocktail," you mutter, giggling as he takes a hearty gulp. "GAH-lee!" he laughs, "that's damn near straight vodka." He holds it up to the light and squints his eyes. "You sure there's cranberry in here?"

"There's a little," you shrug. "I made it strong for medicinal purposes."

"Medicinal?" he asks, giving you a quizzical look. "For what?"

"Pity party," you mumble, biting your lip when he quickly sets the glass down and locks eyes with you.

"I should've turned my phone off the second I got home," he says. "I'm sorry. I was really looking forward to tonight. I hope I didn't ruin everything."

"You didn't ruin anything," you whisper. He opens his mouth to object and you curl a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He leans into it, dipping his tongue into your mouth to tangle with yours in a way that puts your entire body on notice.

"Naughty or nice?" you whisper against his slick lips. It takes him a second to register the question so you ask again, giving a little more clarification. "Naughty or nice? What do you want tonight?"

"Is that a trick question?" he asks, nipping your bottom lip before loudly sucking on it in a way that sends a jolt of electricity straight to your clit. "No," you breathe, squeezing your thighs together to try and ease the steady throb.

He gives you a knowing smile and dips his head down to kiss your neck; when he leans back there's a puff of bubbles on his perfect nose. He narrows his eyes at you when you giggle. "What's so funny?"

"This," you chuckle, swiping the bubbles onto your finger to show him. He grins as he blows the bubbles into the air, and you both watch as they slowly glide down and land on the edge of the tub. Several seconds pass before he locks eyes with you.

"What if I want both?" he asks.

"Both?"

"Naughty and nice."

You raise an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"What if I go downstairs and get a nice fire going in the fireplace and make you something tasty to replace that shitty cocktail." You laugh as he nods at the offending beverage. "Then you can come down and we'll finish decorating the tree." He shrugs and gives you a naughty smile. "We'll see what happens after that."

You match his naughty smile with one of your own. "Sounds good," you say, standing up. "Can you hand me my towel, please?"

"Yes, ma'am." He takes his sweet time grabbing your towel while bubbles slowly slide down your torso exposing your breasts; his hot gaze rakes up and down your body as he wraps the fluffy towel around you. "Thanks," you whisper.

"You're welcome." He watches you for a few seconds before turning to head for the door; just before he exits the room, he stops and throws you a look over his shoulder. "If you're a good girl, you might get your stocking stuffed tonight," he teases, giving you a filthy wink before leaving the room.

You grin and shake your head when you hear him laughing all the way down the stairs. You finish drying off before taking your hair down and running your fingers through it several times. Once you're satisfied with the result, you walk into your closet to select an outfit. You shimmy into a slinky, red long-sleeve tee --no bra-- before stepping into a pair of tiny black boy shorts. You study your reflection in the full-length mirror, not quite happy with the ensemble.

"Needs something else," you whisper, eyes going wide when an idea pops into your head. You grab a pair of black thigh-high cable-knit socks that you usually wear over leggings with boots. You smile to yourself while sliding the socks up your bare legs. "He's gonna love these," you giggle, giving your reflection a thumbs-up before heading downstairs.

Joe gives you a slow once-over as you walk into the living room, letting out a low groan as he admires your outfit. "So fucking sexy," he whispers, wrapping you in a hug while sliding a couple of long fingers inside the top of your thigh-highs. For several minutes y'all sway together in front of the crackling fire, the Christmas music that he turned back on providing a languid tempo as you melt into each other, his big hands eventually coming to rest on your bubble butt. "Woman," he groans, nuzzling his nose against your fragrant neck, "we better get this tree decorated before I lose all sense of decency."

"Yes, sir," you whisper, stepping back and giving him an innocent smile when he hits you with a loaded look. You grab an ornament and sashay toward the tree, knowing full well his eyes are on the bit of butt cheek peeking out of your boy shorts. You smile to yourself when you hear him curse under his breath. "I think this should go down here," you purr, bending at the waist to hang the ornament on the lowest branch, making sure to aim your ample ass directly at your man. "You better stop playin'," Joe mumbles. "What's that, babe?" you ask, twirling around to lock eyes with him. "Nevermind," he mutters, giving you a thorough once-over before taking a deep breath.

"I made us some cocktails," he offers, his gaze coming to rest on your very visible nipples poking against your thin t-shirt. "Sounds great," you smile, biting your lip as it takes Joe a few more seconds to drag his gaze from your breasts to your face. "I'll go get 'em," he croaks, spinning around to head to the kitchen.

"You are a shameless tease," you whisper to yourself, more than a little smug at the effect you have on Joe, even after several years together.

"Here you go," Joe says, walking back in and handing you a frosty glass. "It's a much more reasonable vodka to cran ratio plus a twist of lime," he continues, watching you closely as you lift the glass and take a sip. "Mmmm delicious," you sigh, taking another sip. "At least it won't give you alcohol poisoning," he chuckles, taking a sip of his own cocktail.

You take another sip before setting your glass down and nodding toward the tree. "Alright Burrow let's finish this," you order. "10 minutes left on the clock; we gotta get the rest of the ornaments on the tree in that time. You think you're up for it?" you ask, smiling when he sets his glass down and cracks his knuckles. "I'm always up for it," he brags, giving you a smug grin. "It's gotta look good though," you warn, "can't just throw 'em on there buck wild." He elevates his grin from smug to downright cocky. "Have you seen my accuracy stats?" You nod your head. "Yeah, you're really good under pressure," you answer, slowly licking your lips while holding his gaze. "Also best in the league at squeezing it into tight spaces."

His eyebrows shoot toward his hairline as he points a finger at you. "You're about to be in big trouble and you know it," he warns, spinning around to jog into the kitchen; he returns a few seconds later holding an old school timer; he waggles it at you. "10 minutes," he says, "you ready?"

"To quote Joseph Lee Burrow, 'I stay ready'," you boast, giving him a devious grin while grabbing an ornament in each hand. He winds the timer to 10 minutes and sets it on the coffee table. "Go!" he orders, grabbing several ornaments as the timer loudly starts ticking down.

Y'all rush back and forth between the coffee table and the tree, grabbing ornaments and strategically placing them, occasionally stepping back to check for spacing.

"How's it look?" he asks, as you do a quick inspection. "Fab," you answer, plucking a few more ornaments up while he checks the timer. "We got 2 minutes left," he announces blandly, grabbing the last of the shiny baubles and flashing a smirk as he places them on the tree.

You step back and nod your head in approval for a sec before a thought hits you. "The topper!" you yell, frantically looking around. "There it is," Joe points, rushing toward an end table and snatching up the large glittery star. "Heads up," he warns, making sure you're looking back at him as you run toward the tree; he uncorks a beautifully accurate pass, dropping the star over your shoulder and laughing as you bobble it a few times before pulling it in. "Way to stay with it," he whoops, his smile turning into a frown when you stand on your tiptoes. "I can't reach!" you yell, hopping up and down a few times before you feel his strong hands on your waist. "I got you," he soothes, easily lifting you up; you place the star on top of the tree just a few seconds before the buzzer sounds. "We did it!" you holler, ridiculously pleased that y'all beat the timer.

Joe lets you slowly slide down his body until your feet are back on the floor. "Nice catch, baby girl," he whispers against your ear, his hot breath causing a sizzle of heat down your spine. "Anybody could catch that," you scoff, leaning your head to the side to grant him access to your sensitive neck. "You're crazy accurate," you continue. "That star is not remotely aerodynamic."

"Aerodynamic? I love it when you talk nerdy to me," he moans, nuzzling the sweet spot just behind your ear.

"You're feeling that aerodynamic vibe, huh? You wanna talk about lift, drag and thrust?" you breathe, grinding your ass against his obvious erection. "I'd rather demonstrate it," he teases, grabbing your hand to lead you over to the fireplace.

"Are these washable?" he asks, pointing at a couple of faux-fur throws on the sofa. "Yeah," you give him a naughty grin and help him situate the throws in front of the roaring fire. "Come here," he beckons, stretching out on the plush throws and reaching a hand toward you. You take his hand and lay down beside him, a throb of arousal setting off deep inside you as he maneuvers you onto your back and pushes up onto an elbow, looming over you in the flickering firelight.

He lowers his head and captures your lips, teasing you with gentle kisses before sliding his tongue inside your mouth; you cup a hand behind his neck and twirl your tongue around his, moaning into his mouth as he drops a hand down to tease your nipples. The heat from the fireplace is nothing compared to the heat he generates inside you.

"You need to lose this," he whispers, pulling your shirt over your head. He pulls his own shirt off then leans down and latches his pretty lips onto a hard nipple, smiling against your sensitive skin when you arch up against him. He slides a hand down to the seam of your boy shorts, groaning when he feels your wetness through the flimsy fabric. "Damn, baby," he whispers, skimming his hand inside your shorts, both of you moaning when he slides his fingers into your slick folds.

You gasp in pleasure as his long fingers move deep inside you. "I'm close," you whimper, hissing in protest when he withdraws his fingers and pulls his mouth off of your nipple with an audible pop. "I was almost there," you whine. "I know," he croons, quickly sliding your shorts off before crawling between your thighs. "I wanna taste you. Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you breathe, watching closely as he lowers his head and plants wet kisses on your inner thighs just above your thigh-highs; you squirm underneath him, desperate to have his attention back where you need it. He gives you a dirty grin before finally licking into your folds, gently at first, teasing you with the tip of his tongue for a bit before plunging it deep inside you. You gasp his name and slide your hands into his hair, holding on as he continues to pleasure you with his limber tongue for several minutes before replacing it with two agile fingers. You shamelessly beg as he drags his tongue up to your clit, sucking it loudly while you writhe beneath him. "Don't stop!" you whimper, fisting a hand in his dirty-blonde locks to hold him in place as your climax hits. He continues to tease you as you ride out the intense orgasm.

Once your breathing evens out and your core stops pulsing around his fingers, he quickly strips naked and gets on his knees between your thighs. The flickering firelight showcases your essence glistening on his lips and chin, and you watch as he wipes your juices off with his fingers before sucking them into his mouth. You moan at the sensual display and he graces you with a naughty smirk, wrapping a hand around his hard cock and giving a long, slow pull while you push up onto your elbows to get a better look.

You lick your lips while watching him closely. "Put on a show for me, daddy," you whisper, reaching a hand out to slide it up the inside of his right thigh, smiling when his thick thigh muscles jump against your fingertips. He pumps his erection faster as you ease your hand over to massage his balls. "Fuck," he growls, his hips bucking forward as you continue to tease him. A pearly drop of precum appears on his tip and you quickly slide your thumb through it, smiling at his low purr of approval as you suck your thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue to get every last drop of his essence.

You're still savoring his taste when you find yourself flat on your back, Joe's icy-hot blue eyes capturing yours as he lines his cock up with your slick entrance. "Yeah," you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist as he slides inside you. You run your hands up and down his muscular back before tangling them in his hair, moaning into his mouth as he slides his tongue between your lips, the slow, rhythmic thrust of his tongue in your mouth mimicking his cock moving deep inside you. "Harder," you beg against his slick lips, lifting your hips up into each thrust as he picks up his pace.

Several minutes later he alters the angle of his thrusts just enough to bullseye your sweet spot, and you pull his hair as your climax hits, your breathy moans quickly joined by his deep-throated groans as he follows you over the edge.

You both gasp for breath for a few minutes before he rolls onto his side and pulls you close, his big spoon to your little spoon. "Let's just sleep here," he yawns, nuzzling his nose into your hair and taking a deep breath before heaving a sigh of pure contentment. "I need a blanket," you whine, grinning when Joe reaches a long arm out and drags another throw off the sofa, settling it over you as you snuggle back against him. "Better?" he asks. "Perfect," you sigh, your eyelids growing heavy as you watch the flames dance in the fireplace.

------------

Your eyes flutter open, and you briefly wonder what woke you up; before you have much time to ponder that question, you see Joe -- butt naked -- walk into the room and throw a couple of logs onto the fire. You enjoy the sight of his plump ass as he leans over to situate the logs just right. You let out a low whistle, giggling as he throws you a look over his shoulder.

"Didn't mean to wake you up," he says, snuggling back into your nest of plush throws and planting a kiss on your neck. You arch your back, grinding your butt against his crotch for a bit before rolling over onto your stomach. You look at the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, your lips curling up into a satisfied smile as you think about how much fun y'all had decorating it.

"What are you thinking?" Joe asks.

"I think it's beautiful," you answer.

"You're beautiful," he whispers.

You giggle and turn to meet his gaze, the laughter dying in your throat when you see the look on his face. You'll never get tired of the way he looks at you. He holds your gaze while running a hand down the length of your spine and up over the swell of your ass. You spread your legs as he crawls between them, a flutter of anticipation forming in your core as he tilts your hips up just the way you like.

Before losing yourself in the moment, you vaguely notice a Christmas carol playing in the background. Here Comes Santa Claus will never hit quite the same, you think to yourself, letting out a barely-audible giggle before gasping in pleasure as your man works magic between your thighs.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow imagine

613 notes · View notes

strangersteddierthings · 9 months

Text

Plot Idea I'll never fully flush out or write but gotta get out of my head or it'll never let me know peace again. It's basically Steve sent from the future going all John Wick. if YOU want to take this plot and write it, or if it inspires you to write something, tag me in it. I'd love to read it.

A 26-year-old Steve Harrington gets sent back to the morning of November 6, 1983. IDK if it's like El using her powers to punch a hole in time or like, some other way but everyone still alive has given him something to use as proof of his time-travel and get their younger versions to believe him, because he's got a time limit. No idea how long, but once he's altered history enough that the timeline he left ceases to exist, so will he.

No one he cares about dies this time. It's the mantra playing on repeat in his head as he looks down at the notebook that took Nancy almost three full days of nonstop writing to fill. It's the entire timeline of events, gathered and recounted by everyone still alive, because this Steve has been fighting a losing battle since Spring Break of '86 because Henry won and Hawkins got torn apart and it's been a fight to survive ever since. He's going to stop that from happening.

No one dies this time.

Will doesn't get taken that night, because this Steve is already waiting for him at his house. From Will's perspective this is just some Guy but he's more scared of whatever chased him home then of the person on his doorstep. So, Steve tells him to hang tight and all but shoves him into the house before cutting himself somewhere on his arm and stepping onto the lawn yelling out 'come and get me, ugly'. Of course, the blood draws the demogorgon. And while 17-year-old Steve was no match for just one, this Steve has been fighting packs of them for years now.

He's armed to the teeth and takes it down with precision. He's not unharmed, just one is still fast and dangerous. Steve knows how to fight them now, though. He covers the dead demogorgon with a tarp he stole from his own garage earlier that day and sits on the front porch to wait for Joyce and Jonathan.

Will is both terrified and awed.

Somehow, someway, he gets the Byers to listen. Shows them the dead demogorgon and gives Joyce the notebook from his backpack.

"Read it, and if you aren't convinced, I have more proof of its contents."

And he leaves. The next morning, he has to find El before Benny does, which he succeeds at but just barely. El is skittish and afraid but Steve gets her to trust him. Maybe because her powers brought him back here, she feels a connection to him, a trust that's there instinctively?

He returns to the Byers' house, carrying El the whole way. He stays off the main roads because people are going to recognize him as Steve Harrington and the less people that see him, the better.

Joyce lets him in and immediately fusses over El. Gives her some of Wills clothes to wear.

She's read the notebook cover to cover and has questions. Steve has answers and digs into his backpack to find the item the Joyce from his timeline gave him for proof. Maybe the proof is the same for everyone - individually recorded cassette tapes of their own voices telling them impossible things. Other proof consists of a photo album, pictures of everyone, the destruction of Hawkins, and of the ramshackle home they'd built in the remains of the apocalypse.

Then something something, details pending, everyone gets filled in on the danger that's coming. Maybe the kids get left out this time, get to just be kids or maybe they don't.

Steve meets his younger self and that's just a whole Deal but eventually he gets his younger self to listen. He tells him that being a jackass isn't worth it, and that he's not going to have a reason to change who he is in this timeline, because the events that lead to him being a better person don't happen. He's not going to have his whole life uprooted, so if he wants to be a better, nicer person, he's going to have to pick that life for himself.

Steve doesn't know if his younger self will listen, but he hopes.

Steve hunts down Brenner and shoots him point blank in cold blood. No regrets. Then he shoots the corpse a couple more times. He doesn't get to hurt El ever again. It's only after that that Steve feels the shift, knows that he's going to cease existing by the end of the day, and there's one thing left he needs to do.

He gets Hopper to let him post up with him in his police car at Forest Hills Trailer Park so he can try and catch a glimpse of Eddie Munson, alive and well.

Hopper asks who Eddie is to him.

"Nothing. We never got a chance. Will never get a chance," Steve answers. "Your Steve Harrington won't ever have a reason to even look his way. He died, back in '86. He didn't need to. He shouldn't have."

"You spy on all the other people who died?" Hopper asks. It's not judgmental, just curious.

"No," Steve says, then decides to be honest because he's going to be gone soon anyway, "I barely knew Eddie, but I wanted to love him anyway. Fell in love with his memory, from stories told to me by the kids and Wayne. We were nothing to each other when he was alive, but he could have been everything if we'd gotten a chance."

They don't talk after that. Steve gets to see Eddie arrive home, jump from his van full of life and vibrance and if Hopper notices his silent cry, he politely ignores it.

They drive out to the quarry after. Steve doesn't know what it's going to mean for him to stop existing and he didn't really want a witness to it, but Hopper insisted someone should be or else they'll all just wonder about it.

They stand looking out across the water. Hopper sees something from the corner of his eye and turns to look at Steve but he's not there anymore.

There's nothing left of the Steve Harrington from the future but his actions and a photocopy of the notebook that Nancy made because she wanted to study it, but Joyce didn't want to let it out of her sight. The cassettes, photo's, and original notebook all just disappear before everyone's eyes.

The fight's not over. Henry is still alive, but they're more prepared for him this time around. They know what to expect.

Hopefully that'll be enough this time around.

#i dunno what this is #i just dont have it in me to write this full fic #but maybe now that ive written this part down it'll leave me alone #does younger steve take his advice? i dunno

213 notes · View notes

lukeevangelista · 1 year

Note

idk if youll do this but joe burrow x a hockey player? maybe y/n plays in the nhl (or wnhl) and theyre kinda a power couple or something?

NHL - Joe Burrow

*gif cred to owner*

I’m gonna do it as a woman forward in the NHL and I know the the timelines are kinda wonky considering NHL playoffs are way after NFL’s but just pretend mkay? Thanks.

_________________________________________________

“He plays a pussy sport.” One of the men from Tampa snarled as you lined up for the face-off, “Pussy sport for a pussy man.”

Your team, the Blue Jackets, were currently at home for a playoff series again the Tampa Bay Lightning.

“Who?”

“Burrow. Can’t even win a championsh-“

The ref dropped the puck before he could finish his sentence, you quickly winning the faceoff as it went to Nick Blankenburg.

“Fuck you.” You hissed as you hit him against the boards. He had went after the puck, you knocking the absolute shit out of him, that freeing up the puck, allowing you to knock it to your closest player.

What you didn’t notice until you heard the whistle was the man on the ice below you.

“Hmm. What’s that about a pussy man?” You asked as you skated away.

***

“Did you see the way she just took him down?” Ja’mar grimaced as Joe let out a laugh.

“Nothing new.” He replied, “i just hope she isn’t going to get hurt one of these days doing that.”

Joe and his teammates were on an off day, but the Bengals front office had worked with the Blue Jackets to get seats for the Bengals to attend the game

It had been an earlier game that day so it was easy for them to clear schedules to allow them to attend. Plus it showed support for the other teams near them.

One of the opposing players had went in for a hit on you. You crumpled to the ground, tightly gripping your shoulder, your head on the ice as chaos ensued around you, whistles blowing and you slightly getting nudged as you felt other skates hitting yours on accident.

You looked up to see your line mate, Cole Sillinger, with his gloves off as he had ahold of the players jersey.

Cole was protective over his line mates, especially you. And it got worse as he got older, knowing the injuries could be career ending.

He delivered a punch to the players jaw as your dropped your head again, the trainer kneeling next to you.

Joe was watching intensely as he and his teammates had a perfect view of you on the ground at center ice, writhing in pain as you held your shoulder. His heart was dropping even more as time ticked on and you still hadn’t gotten up off the ice.

“C’mon, let’s get you up.” The trainer sighed as you leaned up, your hand cupping your arm. Zach Werenski had your other arm around his shoulder, allowing him to help you to the bench easier than the trainer could as your balance was wonky.

“It hurts.” You whispered as you looked at him, tears in your eyes. This had been your worst injury yet and could potentially knock you out of the remainder of the playoffs.

“You’ll be fine kid.” He gave you a soft smile, “Go get help and get back out here with us.” He said as he patted your head, allowing the trainer to take back over as he guided you down the tunnel, you continuing to hear cheers from the crowd and stick taps from your teammates.

——-

“You about gave me a heart attack out there.” Joe said as he immediately brought you into his arms, carefully watching your, now, slinged shoulder.

You were going to be out a week or two- just to make sure there was no further damages while this healed.

And better yet, your boys had pushed forward and beat Tampa, sending you all to the second round of the playoffs.

“I’m sorry.” You muffled into his chest.

“How you feeling?” You heard someone ask from behind you, Boone and Cole walking up behind you as you turned around, Joe’s hand on your lower back as you spoke to your teammates.

“Sore.” You chuckled, “but I shouldn’t be out more than a week. The tendons are just sore, no tears and it wasn’t popped out so we’re all good.”

“Thank god.” Cole let out a sigh of relief, “I need ya out there. Who else am I going to set up for the league lead?”

Boone smacked the back of Cole’s head before rolling his eyes, “Good to hear though. Get some rest, get healthy, and get back out there with us. We need Mighty Mouse out there battling with us.”

“Will do Cap.” You said, “Plus, I’m pretty sure I’m in good care and won’t be lifting a finger.”

“Damn straight.” Joe added as you bided the others goodbye before you met up with Joe’s teammates that had attended.

“You about gave Joe a near heart attack.” Sam laughed, “Glad to see you’re doing okay though.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t say okay, but I’m alive and it’s not serious so.”

****

Social media went absolutely crazy when there were photos of you and Joe snapped as you two left Nationwide, your arm in a sling and Joe’s arm around your shoulder.

It was bound to happen, but questions were everywhere when you showed up to the Bengals game against Kansas City, one that would send them to the Super Bowl, once again.

“I still don’t understand why you’re here.” Ally commented as she sat next to you in the press box, “If I was injured, Sam would be on his own here today.”

“He showed up for me, even when his ACL was torn.” You shrugged as you took a sip of your water- although you were eyeing her margarita that was in her hand. Due to the season, you chose not to drink because even though you were out for the next week or so, you didn’t want to mess everything you had achieved up to this point. With the second round around the corner, you didn’t want to risk anything that could jeopardize the teams chances of making the conference final.

“Okay you’ve got a point.” She said as as a few other of the wives and girlfriends sat down next to you two, getting ready for the game to start.

A few had asked how you were feeling, making sure you didn’t need anything, and just overall being good friends to you.

“I’m glad it wasn’t anything more serious that it was.” Ally said as she watched the offense come out onto the field, “I know they all like watching you play. Us too honestly.”

You gave her a soft smile, “Me too. If all things go like planned, I’ll be-“ you cut yourself off as you jumped up, cheering as Joe passed the ball to Ja’mar, him running it into the end zone, “Let’s go! Atta boy!”

Ally laughed and cheered next to you as you all passed around high-fives.

“What were you saying?” Ally asked as you all say back down, the celebration dying down.

“Oh yeah! I should be back by late next week as long as nothing else pops up on the scans.”

“That’s good to hear.” She softly smiled as your conversation fizzled out, you both going back to watching the game.

The game continued without a hitch. It was the final five minutes and you and the others had decided to make your way down to the locker room. There was a 24 point deficit so you all were certain that they would be making a trip to the Super Bowl once again.

Hearing the cheers of the fans and then the thumping of the music in the stands, you knew it wouldn’t be long before the boys would be heading your way. You could hear their shouting as they neared you all, grins present on everyone’s faces as the celebrations started.

Coach Taylor did his duties, giving speeches and passing out game balls before breaking the boys, allowing them to have some fun.

“Way to go nine.” You grinned as you neared him, “I’m so proud of you.”

“I wouldn’t be here without you.” He said as he carefully tugged you into his arms as he placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“Glad to know I’m an important part for you.”

“Oh trust me you are.” He laughed, “I’m just hoping I am for you too.”

“Oh most definitely,” you said, “but right now, this is all about you. Let’s get you that ring nine.”

“As long as it’s your turn after.”

“I think we can try and arrange that.”

#joe burrow #cole sillinger #soft thoughts w/ari #nfl imagine #nhl imagine #joe burrow imagine

499 notes · View notes

emeritusemeritus · 9 months

Text

Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt4.

[Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sex, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting. Tiny bit of angst, possessiveness, talk of kids. Slight dominant behaviour.

Freddie fluff coming your way 🤍

You and George crept back into the house after extinguishing the tea lights on the balcony and successfully managed to make it back down to the second floor without disturbing anyone. George assured you that he'd clean up the mess on the balcony in the morning as he wanted to go straight to bed, which you agreed with.

You opened the door to the twins' room and squinted through the darkness to find Fred asleep in bed, tucked into his regular side, allowing room for you and George to climb in.

You hesitated just for a second, feeling instantaneous conflict. Who would you cuddle up to tonight? You'd spent so much time with George today and so little with Fred whilst he was ill that you suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt. But after your little adventures with George and your conversation of futures and plans, you felt intricately connected with the younger brother, at least for right now.

George moved to the little rickety wardrobe to slip into some pyjamas, pulling them out from the bottom drawer in the dresser.

You slipped out of George's sweater and neatly folded it on the desk at the side of the room before taking off the rest of your clothes, leaving you completely bare, having taken off your bra once you got back from the village and savagely losing your panties to George back on the balcony. You then reached onto the desk and grabbed an oversized T-shirt you'd left out ready for bed. It was one of Fred's old quidditch undertops which no longer fit him. You'd 'borrowed' it nearly two years ago one night that you'd had an impromptu sleepover with the twins and not had anything suitable to wear to bed. It completely drowned you and acted like a nightdress, hanging at least mid thigh with the softest material you'd ever felt, no doubt from years and years of constant washing.

"I missed the show?" George jokes, moving to stand behind you as he places his hands on your hips, running them down your thoughts to where the T-shirt ends.

"I could say the same," you whispered, trying to stay quiet so that you didn't disturb Fred.

"Didn't you get enough earlier dirty girl?" He chuckles breathily into your ear, the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

"Says the man who's been inside me twice today," you teased, turning to face him and give him a little smirk. He huffed out a laugh again and pulled your hips into his, leaning down to kiss you.

"Never enough," he mumbles into your lips before giving you one last kiss. "Right, straight to bed missy," he jokes, lightly spanking your bum as he ushers you into bed.

"Sure you don't want to cuddle up to Fred?" You ask sarcastically, causing George to shoot you a mock glare. You giggle quietly as you climb in, feeling the bed dip behind you as George climbs in behind you, immediately lifting the covers for you both.

Fred stirs only briefly at the movement in the bed before he rolls over in his sleep, turning his back to you.

"Looks like I'm not getting Freddie cuddles then," you whispered with a smile to George who huffs out a little breath of laughter, immediately opening his arms up to you, beckoning you back into his embrace.

"Georgie cuddles are better anyway," he smirks as he wraps his arms around you tightly, completely encasing you in his body. His pyjama top blocked the smooth, soothing feel of his chest but you enjoyed it regardless.

It didn't take long before you drifted off to sleep in George's arms, surrounded by your boyfriends after a perfect day.

——————

When you woke up the next morning you were immediately aware of being warm, very warm. As your consciousness came back to you and the fuzz of sleep began to dissipate, you realised the cause of the heat was the two hot bodies entwined with yours.

You peeked your eyes open, immediately squinting at the sun that shone in through the worn, voile curtains but after mere seconds of adjustment, you were able to look around the room. George lay to your left, his arm still firmly placed over your waist and your head was tucked into the little dip between his neck and shoulder. Fred was tucked tightly behind you, your body pressed closely to his as his arm lay over your middle, his large hand cupping your breast even in his sleep. Your legs were entangled with the twins', so much so that you couldn't determine who's limbs were who's.

You had no idea what time it was but as you couldn't hear any other commotion in the house, you assumed it must still be early.

You knew two things fit certain: you needed to pee and you desperately wanted a warm cup of tea, both of which would mean extracting yourself from the two men beside you, hopefully without disturbing them, especially George as you hadn't had a lot of sleep after crawling into bed so late.

You somehow managed, with great difficulty, to detach yourself from the vine like limbs of your boyfriends without disturbing them too much. George omitted a snore before rolling over to face the other side whilst Fred never flinched.

You quickly threw on a pair of pyjama shorts and grabbed George's sweater on your way out the door, careful to avoid it creaking as you crept out to go to the toilet.

Walking down to the kitchen, you noticed that no one was up yet and so you quietly made yourself a cup of tea, slipped on George's sweater and headed out the door to sit in the garden. You'd pulled a throw from the back of the sofa with you to shield your bare legs from the cold morning air and chose to sit on the little wooden bench at the side of the house, overlooking the garden and the surrounding fields.

Your mug steamed in the cold air and you couldn't help but smile at the inner peace you felt. Molly's garden was beautiful, especially at this time of year as everything bloomed. Her little vegetable patch was flourishing and you absentmindedly watched as various insects buzzed around it.

It was nice here, everything felt right.

You had to hide your relationship from nearly everyone for obvious reasons but being here at the Burrow made it infinitely easier, shielded away from prying eyes. You'd always been close with the Weasleys, the twins specifically, so there was nothing suspicious in you spending all your time with them. You did feel a little guilty that you didn't spend much time with Ginny this weekend, maybe next weekend you could all have the sleepover she'd hoped for.

"There you are," a voice said, breaking you out of your trance. You turned and looked to see a very dishevelled Fred standing in the doorway with a sleepy smile on his face, pyjamas crumpled and a half drunken bottle of dandelion and burdock in his hand. You had no idea how he made regular pyjamas look sexy but somehow he managed it. His pyjama pants were hung low on his hips, most likely so that they were actually closer to the correct length he needed with his long legs. His pyjama top fit a little snugly around the broadest part of his shoulders which seemed to display and showcase his wide shoulders and arms perfectly.

"Here I am," you replied, scooting over on the bench so that he could join you.

"Wondered where you'd snook off to," he smirked, immediately pulling the little blanket over both of your laps as he took a seat beside you.

"You're looking better," you say, taking a good look at his face. His complexion had returned to normal, his eyes sparkling and no longer looking gaunt and sallow. You reached up to smooth some of his long hair back away from his face, trying to tame it even a little as if flicked out wildly around his ears.

"I'm feeling better," he says cheekily, attempting to playfully bite your hand in front of his face. He laughed as you gasped and then took a long swig of his drink. "This helps," he grins. You simply shake your head at his silliness before he leans in to kiss you.

The taste of dandelion and burdock bursts onto your tongue as his lips capture yours. When you pull apart, Fred looks uncharacteristically sheepish.

"I'm sorry about yesterday princess," he says quietly. You're fairly certain you'd never heard him apologise like this, not even to you. "It was stupid to eat the pie not having a reverse, I just got a little too excited about it. I didn't mean to spoil the things we had planned, I just didn't really think ahead and I should have."

"It's okay Fred, I get it," you said in complete understanding. "Your inventions are always exciting and so clever, I'd be eager to try it too. You didn't spoil anything, but it would have been nice to have you there."

"How did I get so lucky with you?" He says, looking up at you with such intensity that it makes a fire rumble in your belly. His free hand came up to cradle your jaw as he pulled you in to another kiss, your eyes fluttering closed as you got lost in the kiss, all your senses muting as you focused entirely on Fred.

You both pulled apart quickly when you heard a sudden rattle of pots from inside the burrow, realising that someone was awake. You gave each other a shy little smile and shared a laugh at how the situation had transpired, suddenly reminded that you still couldn't openly show off your relationship until you'd chosen one of the brothers.

"Oh," Molly says as she steps out into the garden, the front of her hair still up in rollers, "I didn't think any of you would be awake yet," she smiles, messing with her hair, showing that she was a little embarrassed at being caught with her rollers in.

"We didn't want to wake Fred," Fred said. You couldn't help but shoot a look at him in a mixture of amusement and confusion at his words. He'd apparently made a miraculous recovery from yesterday and was already up to mischief. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing or smiling and giving the game away.

"That's nice of you dear," she smiles as she flicks her wand and water sprays out, allowing her to water the garden. "I do hope he's feeling better today," she says as she wanders back into the house, busying herself once again.

Once she had fully entered the kitchen, you turned to Fred with mockingly wide eyes and an open mouth at his actions as if you were surprised by his prank and he shot you a gorgeously smug smirk that you wanted to kiss off of his face straight away.

"I think we should be getting back to Fred," you sarcastically quipped, drinking the last of your tea and moving to stand from the bench. Fred suddenly reached out for your wrist, effectively stopping you as you turned to look at him questioningly. His eyes suddenly flickered around you both, checking that the coast was clear, before he launched himself at you, kissing you passionately one last time.

"George stop it!" You giggled, still playing along with his little game though you could anticipate his displeasure at you calling him by the wrong name. He let out a low growl at your words and attempted to pull you back towards him but you held your ground, managing to swerve his grabbing hand and winked at him as you walked through to the kitchen.

"Can I help with anything Molly?" You asked, placing your used mug in front of the kettle to make another brew. "You don't mind if I make another do you?"

"Of course not dear, I can do it," she says from the sink, immediately going into full mum mode.

"No, really it's okay, I can make it, would you like one?" You asked as you reached for the little canister of teabags.

She looked shocked for a moment and then briefly flustered as she admitted, "I don't think any of my children have ever offered to make me a cup of tea!"

You chuckle slightly as she enthusiastically nods, telling you that she takes two sugars, which you place into the mug you'd seen her use before with 'best mum' written on in bold pink letters.

"Can I adopt you?" She jokes, "or replace one of my lot, you'd make a lovely Weasley," she grins.

"Wouldn't she just," Fred suddenly says, smirking as he leans on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching your exchange with his mum. He has a wicked glint in his eye as he looks you up and down. Butterflies involuntarily erupted in your tummy at his words and his pointed expression, making you feel fluttery and giggly at the implication.

"Who'd make a lovely Weasley?" Ron says tiredly as he wanders into the kitchen, still yawning and looking like he'd been dragged through a hedge backwards.

"Y/n, she's making me a cup of tea!"

"Which one of us are you marrying then?" Ron jokes, barely even looking up at he walks directly over to the food, earning a scoff from you.

"Not you that's for sure," you joke earning a little scoff from the youngest male Weasley. "Bill probably."

You immediately cast your gaze over to Fred who looks instantly affronted by the notion, his eye twitching dangerously as you bat your eyelashes at him, feigning innocence.

"It's always bloody Bill," Ron mutters as he pours himself the biggest bowl of cereal you'd ever seen.

"Ronald!" Molly yells, reprimanding him for his language earning a mumbled, haphazard apology.

Your eyes never leave Fred who looks at you with a thunderous look in his eye. He nods his head towards the stairs, silently commanding you to meet him in his room and takes off up the stairs with no other words. If you didn't know Fred so well, you'd think that you had crossed a line and upset him, but the truth was that you'd only fuelled a constantly burning fire under his possessiveness and had taunted the dragon, as it were.

You quickly thanked Molly, handing her the cup of tea you'd made for her and quickly bolted up the stairs, taking your tea with you.

As you reached the top step of the second floor, your tea was magically lifted out of your hands and placed into the wooden banister. You frowned and spun around to see George sat on the bed, wand pointed in the direction of your tea. He manages to shoot you a wink before you're dragged into their bedroom by a ruffled Fred who slams the door behind you and pushes you back into it, towering over you.

"Bill eh?" He snarls, though it's more dominant than dangerous. "Two Weasley's aren't enough for you?" He immediately moves his lips to your neck and begins sucking marks into your skin, his teeth catching on your throat as he makes his point.

"You already have me and George, are you never satisfied, dirty girl?"

When you don't verbally reply, he suddenly pulls his mouth away and looks at you with the most intense gaze you'd ever seen him give.

"You need anyone else?" He asks, quirking one eyebrow at you.

You shake your head quickly, "no, no, just you and George."

"That's what I thought princess," he smirks before kissing you with all the force he could muster. The kiss leaves you breathless and a little shaky, thankful that his hand had never left your hip otherwise you'd have crumpled at his feet in a pile of mush.

"Whatd'ya say Georgie, think she's sorry?" He asks, turning his head just slightly in George's direction, though his eyes never leave yours.

"I'd say so Fred," George says.

"Hmmm," Fred smirks, before suddenly lurching forward and grabbing you, lifting you in his strong arms and then proceeds to throw you unceremoniously on the bed. You let out a little yelp at the sudden contact and once again when Fred jumps ontop of you, slowly crushing you.

"Say you're sorry sweetheart," he says with a laugh as his hands begin tickling your sides. You gasp for breath, giggles spilling out of you as you fight to pull away from his hands, desperate for him to stop.

"I'm sorry!" You shout whilst involuntarily laughing.

"What was that angel? Couldn't hear you," George says as he pins you down.

"Ahh I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You shout louder, gasping and flailing wildly in both of their holds.

They immediately stop and chuckle at you, looking down at you with wicked grins.

Fred leans down and kisses you in way of a truce and you immediately deepen the kiss, hands raising up to his hair to pull him down closer on you as the kiss turns incredibly sensual. You're suddenly overwhelmed with desire for him and never want the kiss to end as he slips his tongue along your bottom lip before meeting with yours, your tongues dancing together in a sensual play.

He eventually pulls away with a little surprised look in his eye at your sudden move but you simply smile sweetly and reach for George. He smiles, realising what you want and shuffles forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. This time, you reach for his hand and entwine them as you kiss, feeling a strong desire to have them both around you.

"Why would I want anyone else?" You say dreamily, suddenly feeling like you'd drank a whole bottle of felix Felicis as you look at your two boyfriends.

A sombre mood shifts over you suddenly as you realise you have to go back to school later, having to hide your relationships even more. You loved being at the burrow because it meant you could at least pretend that you could be normal behind the closed door of their shared bedroom. There was no Lee blocking you, no school rules or restrictions on your time, just pure time to do whatever you pleased.

"Sickle for your thoughts?" George says, picking up on your little absentmindedness.

"Just don't want to go back that's all," you say with a little shrug. George offers a nod and a little sympathetic smile, knowing exactly how you feel whereas Fred sighs and reaches for a strand of your hair over your shoulder.

"We'll be back next week princess, got the whole week to ourselves, wonder what we can do with the time," he smirks as he moves the strand of hair and kissed the little sensitive patch of skin behind your ear.

"Keep it in your pants Fred," you warn jokingly, sensing a shift in his mood.

"Easy for you to say, I know you two fucked last night," he mumbles into your shoulder, pressing little kisses to your skin. His tone is even with a little hint of teasing but not jealous or angry as you expect it to be; he's merely pointing out the facts and the blatant inequality.

"George wasn't stupid enough to make himself ill," you retort earning a sarcastic glare from Fred.

He pouts for only a second before launching himself to lean over you again, "just means I get you all to myself next weekend," he smirks, "better be ready princess."

#emeritusemeritus #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #harry potter #emeritusemerituswrites #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #george weasley smut #george weasley x you #George Weasley #weasley twins masterlist #Weasley twins x you #Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

261 notes · View notes